


How Not To Get A Date in Mutant High

by stereophoenix



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, BAMF Charles, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereophoenix/pseuds/stereophoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's sort of like this: Raven and Erik don't like each other so Emma makes them have a bet but then Hank turns up and wants to date Raven but Kurt doesn't approve because John wants her too so they appeal to Charles to date Erik but Charles and Raven aren't getting along because of a problem no-one knows about but Ororo seems to know it and she won't talk because she's too interested in Kurt and then...maybe you should just read it. Or make a spider diagram.<br/>10 Things I Hate About You!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions Are Everything

It was a beautiful sunny day when the Westchester School for New Integration opened for the new fall semester.

At least, that's what Raven Darkhölme had been hoping for in her head all summer - until she woke up on September 2nd and saw the clouds. Groaning, she threw her pillow across the room at the boxes still piled up against the wall. _Freaking perfect_.

She said the same thing to Ororo Munroe, her best friend, when she left the dorm an hour later. Ororo raised one shaped eyebrow. "It's your first day of sophomore year and you're worrying about the sky?"

"It's important," Raven argued. "I want this to be a great year, and the _weather_ is like, totally going to dampen the mood."

Ororo narrowed her eyes, but Raven's pleading look was powerful enough to turn those same eyes white. The greyness of the morning started receding quickly to a beautiful blue. Raven whooped and linked her arm around Ororo's. "You're the best!"

"I know," she shrugged as they started towards the main building. "So, how's the new dorm? I can't believe you got in, they're only supposed to be for transfers!"

"Whatever, I guess," Raven said. "I've only been in like two days, I haven't even unpacked my stuff. I'm just enjoying the freedom," she grinned.

"And your new roommate?" Ororo elbowed her.

"I haven't met him yet," Raven elbowed her back. "And I'm not telling you his name."

"So you don't even know like, anything about him?" Ororo frowned as they turned a corner and the school's main entrance appeared in front of them.

Raven paused, then leaned in closer and said, "He's a senior, and he transferred from Germany to come here. Apparently his family...were in _Auschwitz_."

Ororo's eyes were as big as plates. "Is he...one of us?"

Raven shrugged.

Ororo's eyes went even bigger. "What if he's hot?"

"Ugh," Raven grimaced, "trust me, he's not." But when Ororo gave her a look, Raven winked, and they burst into laughter. "Oh my god, Raven-"

A loud screech cut off the rest of that sentence, and Raven and Ororo look around to see the student parking lot part like the Red Sea. A few seconds later, a Chevy truck, rusting purple, blasting Joan Jett, came scorching across the lot. Any regard for safety or law was seemingly lost as the truck that parked across two spaces, the engine cutting off with a shriek.

The junior girls standing open-mouthed on the path screamed as the driver's door banged open. A tall, lanky senior guy wearing completely black leapt out, swinging a heavy bag of books over his shoulder. Erik Lehnsherr stormed up to the entrance, a pair of headphones making him oblivious to the world, and stopped by a poster advertising the winter formal. He tore down the picture of a human boy and a green-skinned girl smiling beatifically before marching on inside.

Some the crowd had looked around at the screeches, but most had continued on as normal. This was clearly not the first time this had happened.

"Man...someone didn't have their morning coffee," Ororo joked, and Raven rolled her eyes.

"Hey, do you think it's too early for a beginning-of-term prank, because I'm totally feeling an idea coming on..."

* * *

 The man at the desk had worked his way though a whole pad of paper, making balls to throw at the basketball hoop on the back of his door. He was just starting on his inbox when the door opened, and a report hit Hank McCoy on the head.

"Woah, give a guy some warning!" the man yelped, and swung his feet off the desk. "Who are you? I've not got a meeting today, I double-checked!"

"Hank McCoy?" Hank stuttered, put off by the guy's casual attitude. The plaque at the desk read _Wade Wilson, Student Advisor_. "I'm new into the juniors?"

"Oh cool, cool, new meat!" Mr Wilson grinned, and pointed at his seat. "You got a file?"

"Yeah." Hank held out his folder as he sat down.

"You a mutant?" Mr Wilson asked as he flipped open the file. Hank nodded. "That why you transfer?" Hank nodded again. "Oh man, what did they do?"

"I have...appearance issues," Hank mumbled.

"Oh, you take this serum stuff to keep it down?" Mr Wilson read off the file. "That's lame. At Wesni we have a no-discrimination policy. If you wanna look like a three-headed ice creature, you totally can, and trust me, some do."

"Really?" Hank stared.

Mr Wilson laughed. "Nah, but I hope we do someday. But really, we're just your standard high school. Smartasses and lil shits everywhere."

Hank blinked. "Did you just say...are you a real teacher?"

"Are any of us real, existing for the few chapters that we are created for by the almighty author?" Mr Wilson said casually. "That's the real question."

Hank really didn't know what to say to that, and Mr Wilson didn't seem to expect an answer. He had started playing boxes against himself on Hank's file. "Can I go now?"

"Yeah, off you go! Oh, here's your timetable," Mr Wilson threw him another scrunched up paper ball, and Hank caught it this time. Grateful, he darted out of the office, just as another student walked past him into it.

Mr Wilson looked up as the dark-haired boy slid into the chair, pushing a sheet of pink paper across the desk. "Charles Xavier. It's the first day of term. I'm actually impressed."

"Oh, Wade, you flatter me so," Charles winked. "I only get into trouble so we have these moments together."

"Charles, you know we can never be," Mr Wilson sighed dramatically. "Especially since you...made Dr Shaw do cartwheels across the square?" He stared the paper. "Oh my god, someone should've filmed that!"

Charles tilted his head, and Wade's eyes unfocused. Then he laughed. "Amazing. But...I've still gotta give you a mark. On your permanent record."

"Naturally," Charles waved a hand. "Not like that'll ever be a problem to me though."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Now get to class, kangaroo boy."

Hank was standing in front of Mr Wilson's office, wondering where the hell classroom 45B was when a student appeared in front of him. Literally appeared, with a bang and a stink of brimstone. Hank coughed.

" _Guten morgen_!" the boy greeted warmly, his dark blue face stretched into a grin. Behind him, Hank saw a pointed tail twirling in midair. _Incredible_. "I'm Kurt Wagner. I'm supposed to show you around."

"Oh, hey," Hank smiled, relieved. "You know, usually they just send one of those audio-video guys down to show me around."

"Haha, yeah..." Kurt glanced away awkwardly, and grabbed Hank's arm to pull him past a man with a tray full of reels quickly. The man frowned and called after Kurt, and Hank looked around.

"Did he just-"

"So," Kurt cut in, looking at his guide sheet. "...Hank, here's the full tour." They walked down the hall, skirting past a large group of cheerleaders and guys in basketball jackets laughing. "Those are your basic "beautiful people". Unless they talk to you, don't bother."

"Is that your rule or theirs?" Hank frowned.

"Watch." Kurt tapped a large, burly boy on the shoulder. "Hello!"

The boy glared. "Freak."

"See?" Kurt shrugged, and they moved on. "Don't worry, only a few of them are anti-mutant, the school really cracks down on the whole discrimination thing. It's worse for someone like me, when it's so...obvious." He looked away from Hank then as he pushed open the door out onto the square, and he felt more than a little guilty.

Outside, there were more groups of students, studying or making their way to class. "To the left, we have the coffee addicts." A group of wide-eyed kids were surrounding the café, sipping from custom mugs. As Hank watched, one of them jumped as a student laughed next to them, and split some of their drink down their front.

"That was Costa Rican, butthead!" a girl yelled, and the other kids descended on the victim immediately.

"Very edgy. Don't make any sudden moves around them," Kurt whispered, and Hank looked away, unnerved. "And these weirdos are the beatniks," he indicated to a group wearing all black and smoking cigarettes. "They're big Kerouac fans. Think they're really underground and cultured, but they mainly-"

"-smoke a lot of weed?" Hank grinned.

"That's it," Kurt smirked back. Two guys in fringed jackets and boots with stirrups interrupted their cut across the square . "These guys..."

"Wait. Let me guess. Cowboys?"

"Yeah, but the closest they've been to a cow is a McDonalds," Kurt joked. Hank blinked. "McDonalds? No? Okay..."

In the middle of the square was a set of benches with a group of bespectacled teens poring over large books. Hank knew these ones as well. "These are your future MBAs," Kurt said. "All accepted to an Ivy League university...I guess the year of the geek is back. Hey guys!"

The group looked up at Kurt; one boy with red-tinted sunglasses muttered, "Scott..." threateningly. Kurt rolled his eyes. "Last term I was their god."

"What happened?"

"Scott Summers started a rumour that I...I bought my Izods at an outlet mall," Kurt muttered, looking down at his sneakers. They did have three stripes, not two like genuine Izods, but Hank decided not to mention that.

"So they kicked you out?"

"Hostile takeover," Kurt said, his German accent exaggerating the sarcasm. "But don't worry; they'll pay. Now, over here..."

But Hank wasn't listening anymore. He'd stopped dead in his tracks, staring across the square at a group of girls sitting on the lawn. One had black skin and shining white hair, another had a green bob cut and a friendly smile, and one was dressed all in red. But the one in the centre caught his eye: a beautiful young blonde with a round face, laughing and flipping her hair back casually.

"Oh my god..." Hank murmured. "What group is she in?"

"The 'don't even think about it' group," Kurt put a hand on his shoulder. "Raven Darkhölme. A sophomore."

"She's incredible," Hank said, dazed. "Kurt, I burn! I pine! I perish!"

Kurt stared at him. "So this is what _fremdschämen_ feels like."

"I feel a bit light-headed," Hank confessed.

"Of course you do. She's beautiful, and deep...deeply shallow."

The group of girls stood up then as the bell went, and were part of the crowd moving towards the doors. Kurt tried to get Hank to move, but he could only stand still as Raven and her friends came close to them.

"I guess there's like, a difference between 'like' and 'love'," Raven was saying. "Like how I 'like' my Abercrombie & Fitch jacket, but I 'love' my Prada backpack."

The green-haired girl frowned. "But I love my Abercrombie & Fitch jacket."

"That's because you don't have a Prada backpack," Raven nodded sagely. The friend oooh-ed appropriately.

Kurt shook his head and pulled Hank towards the door. "Forget her, _mien freund_. Your timing is awful - she had a bad breakup last term and swore off dating."

"Uh huh...yeah," Hank replied, uncaring.

* * *

English class was just about to begin when Erik walked in, sliding into his seat on the third row. The teacher, Logan (no-one knew whether it was his first name, or second, or possibly both) raised an eyebrow at him, but Erik took no notice. Logan turned away, deciding not to press it this time.

"So, holiday reading. What did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?"

A girl near the back raised her hand and sighed, smiling. "I loooooved it. It was so _romantic_."

Erik snorted loudly, and the class prepared themselves. He turned around to the girl, glaring. "Romantic? Hemingway? He was an abusive, alcoholic racist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers."

John Allerdyce on the seat right behind Erik laughed. "As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous dickhead who has no friends?" One of his cohorts snickered, and they shared a fist bump while Erik fumed in his seat.

"Alright, pipe down, bub," Logan looked at John, annoyed.

The calm lasted for a moment before Erik turned in his seat again. "I suppose in this society being human and an asshole makes you worthy of our time." He looked back at Logan imperiously. "Why can we never have James Joyce, or Bram Stoker, or even a Brontë? _Mutant_ authors?"

Logan opens to his mouth to answer when the door opened again and Charles Xavier stepped in with a waft of smoke and a lazy smile. "What did I miss?"

"The oppressive xenophobic values that dictate our education," Erik replied, before anyone could get a word in edgeways. He looked the boy up and down, and did not appear impressed.

"Good," Charles grinned, and then turned around and walked back out again.

"Hey!" Logan yelled after him, but he didn't come back, and Logan gritted his teeth. He looked around to see John with his hand up again. "Yes?"

"Mr Logan, sir, is there any chance we could get Erik to take his Midol before he comes to class?"

Erik seemed about to explode as the class erupted in laughter, and Logan banged a hand on the table. The ringing metallic noise shut everyone up quickly.

"Someday you're gonna get bitchslapped, Allerdyce, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it," Logan said, glaring at him. "And Erik? I want to thank you for your point of view."

Erik looked at him, surprised and slightly smug.

"I know how hard it must have been for you to overcome all those years of upper middle class suburban oppression. Must've been real tough."

He deflated quickly, jaw clenching. The filing cabinets began to rattle, then twist in on themselves, and the students closest to them yelled. It wasn't until Logan put his hand down on Erik's desk they finally stopped.

"Alright, go to the office. You're pissing me off."

"What?! Logan-"

"Bye," Logan replied brusquely, and grabbed a chalk off the desk in a pointed attempt to begin his lesson.

Erik huffed, and marched out of the class, making sure to swing his bag right into John's face on the way out. He made his way to Wade's office on the first floor, still fuming, and came in just as Wade was waving two swords around dangerously.

"What's another word for 'attack'?" Wade thought out loud. "...charge..." He made a jab. "....strike..." He swung his sword round to point at Erik.

"Besiege?" Erik suggested.

"Perfect!" Wade grinned. He put the swords back on the wall and sat at the desk. "So, I hear you're terrorising Logan's class. Again."

"Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action," Erik replied.

"The way you expressed your opinion to Bobby Ridgeway?" Wade raised an eyebrow at him. "By the way, his testicle retrieval operation over the summer went pretty well, in case you're interested."

"I still maintain he kicked himself in the balls."

"The point is, Erik, people think that you're kinda..."

"Intractable?"

"'Heinous bitch' is what I was thinking of, really," Wade shrugged. "So, yeah. You might wanna work on that."

"Well, thank you for your excellent guidance," Erik said drily. "I'll let you get back to your vicious advance." He grabbed his bag and got out of there quickly.

"Vicious advance..." Wade mused. "I like that."

* * *

 At lunch, John was hanging around the square with Alex Summers, when Alex elbowed him and pointed to the doors. "Look out."

Raven and her black friend had just left the building, and were walking past them as John wolf-whistled. "Looking good, ladies." The black girl looked disgusted, and Raven rolled her eyes.

Alex laughed as they went on their way. "They're out of reach, even for you."

"No-one's out of reach for me," John replied, sulking.

"You wanna put money on that?"

"Money I've got," John said after a pause, grinning. "This I'm going to do for fun."

Across the square, Hank and Kurt saw John stride off in Raven's direction. "Who's that guy?" Hank said suspiciously.

"It's John Allerdyce," Kurt said. "He's a jerk. And a model."

"He's a model?" Hank raised an eyebrow.

"Yep, a model. Mostly regional stuff. Apparently he's got a tube sock advert coming out."

"Really?" Hank sounded impressed.

"Really." Then they caught each other's eye and laughed.

Hank opened his chocolate bar and watched Raven, standing by the noticeboard with her friend. "Man, look at her."

"I know. Is she always so..." Kurt paused. "...vapid?"

"How can you say that?" he frowned. "She's so..."

"Conceited?"

"What are you talking about?" Hank rounded on him. "There's more to her than you think. I mean, look...at the way she smiles." His expression was dreamy. "And look at her eyes. She's totally pure. You're missing what's there."

Kurt put his hand around Hank's shoulders. "No, Hank, _Freundchen_ , no. What's there is a confused little princess with a strategically placed sundress that makes guys like us realise we can never have her, and guys like John realise they want to." He looked hurt, but Kurt was trying to be kind. "She is what we'll spend the rest of our lives not having. Move on."

"No."

"Move _on_."

"No!" Hank looked annoyed. "You're wrong. I mean, not about the sundress part, but the rest. You're wrong."

He seemed so determined that Kurt threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. I'm wrong. You want to take a shot? Be my guest. She's actually looking for a French tutor."

"Perfect!" Hank's face brightened.

"Do you speak French?"

"Nope! But I will!"

Kurt gave a deep sigh.

* * *

Erik met Emma Frost outside the front door of the school when the bell went in last period. "Hey, lover. Make anyone cry today?" Emma grinned.

"Sadly, no," Erik said as the started across the parking lot to his truck. "But it's only four thirty."

Emma laughed and was about to say something when John pulled up next to them. His convertible was a disgusting yellow, with tacky red flames across the side. "You know your little Dracula look is out, Erik. Didn't you read last month's Cosmo?"

Erik didn't even look round. "Run along."

John pressed down on the gas and zoomed on, heading to where Raven and her friends were deep in meaningful conversation.

"I know you can be overwhelmed. You can underwhelmed. But can you ever just be whelmed?" Lorna was asking.

"I think you can in Europe," Raven said thoughtfully.

"Hey ladies," John smiled wolfishly. "Would you sweet young things like a ride?"

"Oh," Raven simpered. "I only live in the dorms round the corner, it's no trouble."

"For a pretty girl like you, it's all the trouble in the world," he said, and pushed a button to pull the roof back. Raven grabbed Ororo's hand, and they climbed over the upholstery into the car, sat on the back and grinned.

Across the lot, Charles was taking a drag on his cigarette as he watched her drive off, and raised an eyebrow. "A charming new development," he said out loud to any one of the at least ten people sitting with him.

"She's a sophomore," Moira shook her head. "It's disgusting."

Erik hit the gas on his truck and started to reverse out, but the way was interrupted by a bang of brimstone.

"Remove head from sphincter, then teleport!" Erik yelled out of the window at a surprised-looking Kurt.

Kurt backed up quickly, running over to his scooter in the bike racks where Hank was waiting for him. "You alright?" he asked, worriedly.

"Fine," Kurt smiled. "Just had a run-in with the shrew. Your girlfriend's roommate."

"What? That's Raven's roommate?" Hank gulped.

"Yeah. The mewling, rampalian wretch himself. Stay cool." Kurt saluted as he climbed onto his scooter.

Erik and Emma made it to his dorm building in a few minutes. They were fixing themselves drinks from the kitchen when the door in the hall opened. Raven and Ororo skipped in, laughing and chattering.

"Oh," Raven stopped at the door. "It's you."

"Hello to you too, and I'm fine, thanks for asking," Erik replied.

"What's he doing here?" Ororo whispered.

"He's my roommate," Raven muttered back.

"She's your roommate?" Emma looked like a kid on Christmas, and Erik glared at her. "Oh my _god_."

"Oh Raven, I'm so sorry," Ororo said, attempting consolation.

Raven rolled her eyes and picked up the mail from their basket. There was a strained silence as Raven rifled through it, and then pulled out an embossed envelope. "What's this? Massachusetts Institute of Technology?"

"That's mine!" Erik dived across the kitchen and yanked it out of Raven's hands.

Raven and Ororo pulled open cupboards looking for cookies as Erik tore the envelope open and read the letter excitedly. Then he looked up at Emma. "I got in!" he grinned, and she whooped.

"Got in where?" Raven asked, nicely.

"Like you care."

"Fine, don't boast."

There was a pause. "Only the best engineering university in the country. Massachusetts Institute of Technology."

"Massachusetts? Is that...in Canada?"

"It's a state, dumbass," Erik said. "It's in New England."

"So does that mean you'll be like, hundreds of miles away from us?" Ororo frowned. "You'll just up and leave?"

"Let's hope so," Raven grinned.

Erik seemed offended, but then Emma cut in. "Erik, did you see who drove Raven home today?"

"I don't care- drove?" Erik stopped. "Who?"

"It was John, if you must know," Raven shrugged, looking at Emma. "Why do you care?"

"John's a flaming imbecile, that's why," Erik spat, and the knife in the rack started rattling.

"No he's not, and he _likes_ me-"

"John doesn't like anyone, and if you had even a fraction of maturity you'd know that. I thought you swore off dating, anyway?" Erik cut in loudly, turning on her. "That's what you made sure everyone knew at the end of last year, anyway."

"How did you know about that?"

"Everyone knows."

"Well, so what if I did? I'm not dating him. He drove me home, it's not a crime."

"With John, it may as well be."

"You know, just because you come from Planet Loser doesn't mean the rest of us aren't allowed to have fun."

"What, as opposed to Planet 'Look at me! Look at me!'"

"You know I'm right. You couldn't get a date even if you wanted to."

"Yes I could! It's you who can't live without someone to fawn over you every minute!"

"I could!"

"GUYS, SHUT UP!" Emma yelled, and Raven and Erik looked away from their heated match. "Oh my god, you're _awful_. I totally have a way to solve this."

"Solve what?" Raven spat.

"This," Emma explained, detailed. "You should make a bet."

"A bet on what?" Erik frowned, narrowing his eyes at Raven.

"Raven can't date until Erik does," she said. "Then you can prove you can get a date and you can prove you don't need one."

"But he's a monster! What if he never gets one?" Raven's eyes widened.

"Then you'll never date," Erik grinned. "Oh, I like that."

"Well, I think it's ridiculous."

"What's the matter, princess?" Emma taunted. "Scared of competition?"

"Just because I think it's ridiculous doesn't meant I won't do it!" Raven said quickly. "I'll do it."

"But Raven, what about John-" Ororo started.

"He can hold on for a couple of months while this asshole finds one sad retard to take him to the movies for once," Raven waved a hand.

"Okay, first of all, that was an ableist slur which is totally offensive-" Erik began, but Emma shushed him.

"Shake on it, bitches."

Raven and Erik barely brushed each other's hands in the briefest of shakes, and Emma smirked.

"Awesome! I'm totally going to put this on the school blog!" She jumped down from the counter and ran out of the dorm, and Raven froze.

"Emma, oh my god, this can't leave this _room_ -"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most ridiculous and yet highly appropriate AU that popped into my head when I was watching the film. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy writing this so, so much. Hope you'll love reading it just as much. Thanks!


	2. Networking is Better in Theory than in Practice

By the end of the week, Hank had secured his place as Raven's tutor by means of subterfuge and trickery. This mainly involved Kurt teleporting between the two of them, unimpressed. On Friday he sat in the library, reading through the French textbook he'd pulled off the shelf; luckily, it was his particular skill to learn fast.

He didn't seem to be the only one who wanted that. "Can we make this fast?" Raven said, taking him by surprise as she sat down next to him. "Roxanne Korinne and Andrew Barrett are having an horrendous public break-up on the quad - again." Today she was wearing a pretty white t-shirt and black crop pants, and Hank was more than a bit tongue-tied.

"Oh, yeah, um, okay," he said articulately. He looked down at the page he was on. "We could start with pronunciation, if that's alright with you."

"Not like, the hacking and gagging and spitting part, please," Raven sighed.

"Oh, well, there is an alternative," he tried, flicking through the book. "French food?" Brilliance struck him then. "We could...eat some together? Saturday night?"

Raven stared at him, and then put a hand to her chest. "Oh, you're asking me out? That's so cute!" She smiled, and Hank's hopes soared. "What's your name again?" Hank's hopes hit a passing aeroplane and made an ugly crash to earth.

"Hank," he said, and then leaned across the table. "Look, I know you don't want to date since your breakup, but I figure if it's for French class-"

Raven had looked pitiful as he spoke, but the mention of her promise made her face change. "Oh, wait a minute! Harris-"

"Hank."

"My decision has slightly changed since then. Not willingly, but it was a bet, and I can't go back now. I'll date when my roommate does."

"You're kidding!" Hank's face lit up again. "So tell me, do you like sailing? Cause I read about this place that rents out boats-"

Raven held up a finger. "A _beaucoup_ problemo, Harvey. In case you haven't noticed, my roommate's a particularly hideous breed of loser."

Hank winced at her language. "...I've noticed he's a little anti-social. Why is that?"

"Unsolved mystery," she shrugged. "Apparently he used to be kind of popular, and then it was like...he got sick of it. Or something. There's talk as to why, but I'm pretty sure he's just incapable of human interaction. Plus, he's a bitch."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure," Hank replied, mind whirring a mile a minute. "But, you know, I'm sure there's lots of women who wouldn't mind going out with a...difficult boy. I mean, you know, people jump off aeroplanes, ski off cliffs. It would be like extreme dating."

"You think you could find someone _that_ extreme?" Raven looked skeptical.

"Sure, why not?" Hank said, not sure at all.

Raven's expression softened, and she put a hand on his arm. "Would you do that? For me?"

"Yeah!" he said, distracted. "I could look into it."

It was a reluctant Kurt who actually looked into it, when Hank persuaded him later that day. On Monday he passed Hank a message during European History: _Stairwell behind tennis courts, lunch._

"Now, I've gathered a group of girls. Couldn't be more perfect. Wesni's finest," Kurt insisted as they turned the corner to a dead end. Four girls were slouching against various walls, a motley crew of punks and geeks. Hank shot Kurt an uncomfortable grimace.

"Hey, ladies," Kurt said cheerfully. "How's it going? Would any of you be interested in dating Erik Lehnsherr?"

The first girl in the chair had purple hair and two lip piercings. She started laughing hysterically.

The second one to sit down was unhealthily skinny and picking at a hangnail on her thumb. She stared blankly at Kurt when he said it.

The third girl looked so pumped on steroids she could have ripped the chair in half with her bare hands. Even she shook her head and said, "Honey, I've never been _that_ ripped."

The last girl pushed her glasses up her nose at least three times every minute, and her Catholic schoolgirl clogs tapped on the ground nervously. "Maybe if we were the last two people alive, and there were no sheep...are there any sheep?"

Hank threw his hands up in the air when she left and marched out of the stairwell, Kurt running to catch up with him. Slumping onto a bench in the square, he stared across the space listlessly - and just his luck, Erik Lehnsherr was right there in his line of sight, reading an Oscar Wilde novel. He was wearing an Oasis t-shirt today in his trademark black, and the girl next to him was all in white like they were an villainous twosome.

"Did I, or did I not, tell you it was pointless?" Kurt said, sitting down next to him. "No-one will go out with him."

Hank made a noncommittal noise as he continued to watch Erik, eyes narrowed. Something was niggling at the back of his brain, something obvious, and as Kurt continued to talk he did what he did best and _thought_.

He sat up suddenly and put a hand over Kurt's mouth, interrupting his plans for the winter formal. Kurt made angry mufflings.

"You mean, no _girl_ will go out with him," Hank said, looking at Kurt meaningfully. The boy just frowned, so Hank rolled his eyes and pulled him up, walking over to Erik.

"Hey. Hi," he said cheerfully, ignoring Kurt's worried protests and Erik's dagger-filled look. "Sorry, I was just across the square and saw you reading _Salomé_. Such an interesting play, I've read it myself, so dark and yet funny, you know? Oscar Wilde is a genius, and considering he was ga-"

"What do you want?" Erik slammed the book shut and put it down.

Hank paused, glancing at Kurt who just shrugged, confused, and then noticed something else. "Oh, are those A&F jeans? They look good. Quite tight, but I guess that's a personal preference. Did you know-"

"What do you want?" Emma repeated, standing up between Erik and Hank threateningly.

"Just trying to have a chat with your boyfriend, nothing-"

"He's not my boyfriend," Emma cut him off. Behind him, Hank finally heard a loud "OH!" come from Kurt, which was his cue to leave.

"Great to meet you!" he chirped, and made a swift exit with Kurt hot on his heels. They crossed the square, not stopping until they were back at the bench with their bags. There, they looked at each other, breathing hard.

"So," Kurt said finally. "We need someone fearless, charming and a mutant. Oh, and they have to be a guy."

"Wonderful," Hank muttered. His sarcasm made it evident that he would be surprised if they found someone that met exactly those criteria soon.

In AP Biology the next day, they had to dissect frogs, but Hank was in a deep funk and left Kurt to it. He looked around the class, and his gaze caught on another student who wasn't doing as told - but quite the opposite of Hank. A Bunsen and flask were set up full of a bubbling liquid, and some forceps were lowering the poor dead frog into it. The boy had dark hair and a wicked smile, and Hank saw those blue eyes watching the frog react to the liquid and write down the results. Something about him gave Hank a Feeling.

"What about him?" he said, elbowing Kurt to attention.

"Who?" Kurt looked around and followed Hank's gaze. "Him? Oh god. Nein, no, a thousand times no."

"Why not?" Hank asked.

"Dude, that's Charles Xavier," Kurt murmured. "When it comes to infamy, he's got one more than even the beautiful people. Smart, and I mean _really_ smart - going to Oxford next year and everything - and sickeningly rich. Popular too, even to the teachers - he didn't even turn up for four months last year and still got honours in his finals. Look at him, he can mess about in all his classes and get away with it, but that just shows you-"

"Is he a mutant?"

"Well...yeah, he's a telepath-"

"And sexuality-wise?"

Kurt hesitated. "Well, he has dated girls...and guys, but-"

As Kurt spoke, Charles lit a match from the Bunsen and tried to light a cigarette indoors. A brunette girl, his lab partner, knocked it out of his hand and scolded him.

"Trust me," Hank grinned. "That's our guy." He stood up.

"He's Raven's brother," Kurt blurted out. Hank looked around. "I mean...his family adopted her when she was only eleven or something. They had a falling out last year, no-one knows what about. They barely talk now, and Raven's in the dorms...you can't drag him into this."

Hank just blinked at him. "He's our guy," he repeated, and walked over to Charles's desk, leaving a worried Kurt behind.

"Hey, how you doing? Listen, I..." Hank started, leaning over the desk, but Charles just looked up at him with that smile and tapped his temple. Hank suddenly thought it was a good idea to throw his feet backwards and hit the floor, groaning. The class roared with laughter.

"Okay..." he muttered. "Later then."

Kurt resisted an "I told you so" as Hank limped back to him while the teacher shushing the class angrily. "That went well," he said instead, and Hank growled.

Surprised, Kurt looked at him to see Hank grimacing, and something about his face was...funny...

Two seconds and a quick teleport later, Hank was looking at his own furry, blue reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. Kurt perched on the counter next to him.

"So, you _are_ a mutant," he said conversationally.

Hank's voice was distinctly lower and rougher when he replied, "I'm sorry."

"No, it's totally cool," Kurt said. "I mean, when you think about it, if you're smart enough to invent a serum to make you look the same as everybody else, it's only common sense to hide it, _ja_? And sharing it with people who have similar problems would only blow your cover, so you can't do that either! Not even if they're your friend," he finished bitterly.

Hank sighed. "You have a right to be angry there, I guess."

"That's not why I'm angry," Kurt muttered. "I'm mad that you finally came to a school which has the sole purpose of making people like us feel comfortable, and you still can't let it go. You need to be proud of who you are, _Freundchen_. Who else is going to be?" That took Hank by surprise, and he looked up to see Kurt swinging upside down, his tail curled around the light fixture. "This is a gift. Don't waste it."

He swallowed. "I'll work on it. But I've hidden it for such a long time, it might be a while..."

"That's fine," Kurt somehow shrugged from upside down. "Just don't be such a _Dorftrottel_ about it."

Hank nodded, and pulled out the needle from his bag. Kurt jumped down and watched as his face deflated and discoloured, and he looked like his old self in moments.

"So, you really think this Charles is the one?" he carried on the conversation like there'd never been an interruption.

"Yeah."

"So how do we get him to date Erik?"

"I don't know," Hank sighed, exasperated. "I mean, we could pay him, but he's loaded."

"No, but he does like money," Kurt said. "And it's a challenge to him too, he loves those. The money would just be an excuse."

"But we don't _have_ any money," Hank pointed out.

"So what we need is a backer."

"What's that?"

"Someone with money who's stupid," Kurt nodded, and Hank looked pensive.

* * *

At lunch, John was sitting with Bobby and a couple of other guys when a green-faced Kurt Wagner, of all people, strolled up to them and sat down.

"Hey," he smiled weakly, and the guys all stared at him. Kurt looked around for something to say. "Oh, is that a peach Fruit Roll-Up? Cause you don't see many-"

One of John's friends grabbed his wrist as he reached for the roll-up, and Kurt pulled it back quickly. "Uh, okay. Yeah, sorry..." he stammered. Hank was a lot better at this than him.

"Are you lost?" John narrowed his eyes.

"No...actually..." Kurt was really struggling here. "I just came by to...chat."

"We don't chat," John replied.

"Well, actually...I thought I'd run an idea by you. Just to see if you're interested."

"I'm not."

"Well, hear me out. Now..." John grabbed the Kurt's face by the chin and pulled out a Magic Marker, removed the lid with his teeth and started drawing. Kurt gulped. "You want Raven, right?"

"Didn't you see the blog, idiot?" John said between the lid.

"Yeah. She can't go out with you because her roommate is this insane head case and no-one will go out with him, right?"

"Does this conversation have a purpose?" John muttered as the pen squeaked over Kurt's cheekbone.

"What I think you need to do is, you need to hire someone to go out with him. Someone who doesn't scare so easy, and has the same sort of...interest." Kurt looked at John. "If you know what I mean."

John seemed uncomfortable suddenly, but he got the message. "Like who?"

Kurt pointed across the hall.

"That guy?" John said. "Didn't he convince the waiter at Eleven Madison that he was the Prince of Denmark because he refused to book him a table?"

"Used the Prince's private suite as well," Kurt said seriously. "Obviously he's a solid investment."

John seemed to contemplate the idea, but then he looked back at Kurt and finished his drawing. "What's in it for you?"

"If I'm walking down the hall and I say hello to you, you say hello to me." Kurt rubbed his jaw.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," John nodded. "You're cool by association. I'll think about it."

Kurt grinned, and tried to reach for a chocolate bar. John slapped his wrist away. "We're done now."

"Right, yep," Kurt got up quickly and backed away, walking across the hall to Hank. People were giggling.

"What are you doing, getting him involved?" Hank whispered anxiously.

"Relax," Kurt assured him. "We'll let him think we're calling the shots. While he's setting things up, you get time with Raven."

"That...is a good idea," Hank conceded. Another couple walked past Kurt and laughed, and Kurt looked at him.

"There's a penis on my face, isn't there?"

* * *

Hank and Kurt kept a careful watch on John, but he didn't do anything about their proposal until a few days later, at the end of the week. It was Games, and they were measuring discus throws when they saw John approaching Charles and his friends smoking on the bleachers. It was another testament to his popularity that they were somehow excused from exercise.

"Hey, how's it going?" John said uncomfortably. Charles looked at him, impassive. He attempted small talk. "So, I was over at Eleven Madison the other-"

"Do I know you?" Charles interrupted, a brisk English accent making him sound wholly unimpressed with anything John could say. He decided to get straight to the point.

"See that guy?" He pointed across the field where Erik was playing soccer.

"Yes."

"That's Erik Lehnsherr. I want you to go out with him."

Charles laughed. "Sure. Okay." His friends laughed too.

"I know you...do that kind of thing. And I can't date his roommate until Erik does. See, they _really_ get on each other's nerves, and made this bet-" John tried.

"That's a touching story. Really is," Charles said sweetly, breathing smoke on John. "Not my problem."

"Would you be willing to make it your problem if I provide a generous compensation?" Charles raised his eyebrows.

"You're going to pay me to take out some guy?"

"Mm-hm." John held up his wallet.

"How much?"

"Twenty bucks."

Charles looked over at Erik. He violently tackled a member of the opposite team and yelled at the coach who blew the whistle. Charles looked back.

"Fine, thirty," John corrected.

"Well," Charles stretched out like a cat, and took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking it away. "Let's think about this. If we go to see a film, that's fifteen dollars. We get popcorn, I suppose that's...fifty-three. Oh, and maybe he'll want a drink. So, I guess we're looking at about seventy-five dollars here, yes?"

"This ain't a negotiation, and you don't even need the money," John said, exasperated. "Take it or leave it, rich boy."

"Fifty dollars and you've got a deal," Charles smirked. John paused, then pulled out his wallet.

Over on the field, Erik was breathing hard from the practice when the coach blew the final whistle, dismissing the team. On the way to the showers, Erik saw a boy leaning against the railings, watching him with bright blue eyes and smiling. He was dressed cleanly in a shirt and dark jeans, and the way he looked at Erik made him feel awkward.

The boy started walking over to him as Erik stopped by the bench for a drink. "Hey there. How are you doing?"

"Sweating like a pig actually, and yourself?" Erik smiled back, rubbing his face with the towel for emphasis. Somehow, the boy just laughed.

"Now there's a way to get a guy's attention, huh?"

"Ah, yes. My mission in life," Erik contemplated, and the boy's smile just got wider. Erik suddenly felt uncomfortable with this. "But then again, you're here talking to me, so I guess it worked. The world makes sense again." He started walking away.

The boy followed, and Erik felt even more uncomfortable as the rest of the team disappeared into the changing rooms. The boy caught up to him and sidled closer, and saying, "So. Pick you up Friday?"

Erik stopped dead in his tracks. _First of all, how do you even-_ "Oh right. Friday," he said sarcastically. "Wonderful."

"The night I take you places you've never been before," Charles winked, and Erik's stomach turned.

"Like where?" he raised an eyebrow. "The seven-eleven on Broadway? Do you even know my name, fuckboy?"

The boy raised two fingers to his temple, like he was sharing a secret. "I know a lot more than you think."

It was then Erik knew _exactly_ who he was, and he felt cold. "Doubtful," he spat out. "Very doubtful." Then he turned on his heel and escaped.

From over on the other side of the field, Hank and Kurt saw Charles blink at Erik's exit, then grit his teeth and walk away. "We're screwed," Hank said miserably.

"Hey, no," Kurt shook his head. "I don't want to hear that defeatist attitude. I want to hear you upbeat."

Hank plastered a smile on his face. "We're screwed!"

"There you go."


	3. Reverse Psychology is the New Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the long wait - I was on holiday. Enjoy!

That night, Erik was washing his face in the bathroom when Raven barged in, wearing pyjamas and a large red sweater. She waited, leaning against the door while Erik did his best to take as long as possible.

"Have you ever considered a new look?" she said, conversational. "I mean, seriously. You could have some definite potential buried under all this hostility."

"I'm not hostile, I'm disillusioned by the state of humanity," Erik replied sweetly.

Raven rolled her eyes and sat by the mirror, pushing her sleeves up to remove her makeup. Her voice wasn't as cutting as usual when she said, "Have you ever actually tried being nice? People wouldn't know what to think."

He laughed. "You forget. I don't care people think."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," he shot back, turning to her. "You don't always have to be who they want you to be, you know."

Raven looked at him, and her youth was even more obvious with the removal of her dark eye makeup. "I happen to like being adored, thank you," she muttered, looking offended, and Erik felt guilty. Only a bit, however.

"Well, you could try being a little less obnoxious about it," Erik said.

"Oh sure, _I'm_ the obnoxious one," Raven rolled her eyes, pushing up the sleeve of her sweater again. Erik noticed.

"Should have bought a smaller one," he pointed.

"I would have if it was mine."

"Oh god, it's not your ex-boyfriend's, is it?"

"No!" Raven shivered. "Ew. It's my...brother's."

"Your brother?" Erik said skeptically. "You mean the one who you left?" _The one who asked me out today._

"I'm not talking about that." Raven stood up suddenly, and walked over the sink, pulling out her toothbrush. Erik waited, but she was serious, so he shrugged and left for his room.

It was only when he got there he realised he'd never asked why she kept her brother's sweater if she'd moved out. But he thought he knew why.

* * *

The next day, Erik was at the music store buying Sonic Youth's new album, when he noticed something outside the window and swore loudly. The employee at the counter nodded. "Let it all out, man."

He left the store, determined to confront the smug boy leaning against his truck, his cigarette ash on the bonnet.

"Nice car," Charles Xavier said casually. "Vintage fenders."

"Are you following me?" Erik spat.

"I was in the laudromat," he replied, hands out in a gesture of surrender. "I saw your car, I came over to say hi. It's not illegal, is it?"

"Hi," Erik said brusquely, and moved to get in the car. Charles quickly blocked him , taking another drag of his cigarette and blowing it in Erik's face. He waved it away angrily.

"Not a big talker, huh?"

"Depends on the topic. My fenders don't really whip me into a verbal frenzy."

Charles laughed, but he stopped when he saw Erik's unamused glare. Leaning against the hood again, he raised an eyebrow and said, "You're not intimidated by me?"

"Intimated by you?" Erik could've laughed himself. "Why would I be intimidated by _you_?"

"Well, most people are," Charles shrugged.

"Well, I'm not."

" _Well_ , maybe you're not intimated by me," he stubbed his cigarette out on the ground, then leaned forward and murmured by Erik's ear, "but I bet you've thought of me naked, haven't you?"

It took just about all Erik's strength not to punch him in the face as Charles winked. Instead, he decided to play him at his own game and pushed Charles back against the hood, standing over him threateningly. "Am I really that transparent?" Erik said sarcastically. "I want you, I need you, oh baby."

Charles was just grinning, looking up at him like he was oh so innocent, but Erik shoved past him and got into his truck. At least Charles jumped back when he started the engine, and Erik was about to reverse when a familiar yellow flame convertible pulled up and parked right in front of his space. Fuming, he watched John get out and walk to a pharmacy.

"What is it, asshole day?" he said angrily, then yelled out of the window, "Hey, do you mind?"

"Not at all," John yelled back, giving him a thumbs up, then walked in.

Erik stared in disbelief, then slammed his hand on the stick. The truck flew backwards, making a sickening crunch as it hit the side of the ego-mobile.

Charles Xavier doubled over in laughter as John ran back out of the store, saw the damage and rounded on Erik.

"You bitch!"

"Whoops," he smiled.

* * *

"Whoops?" Erik's social worker yelled down the phone. "Your insurance does not cover 'whoops'!"

"How long has she been doing this?" Emma whispered.

"About half an hour," Erik whispered back, then out loud: "Then tell them I had a seizure."

"Is this about the Massachusetts Institute?" the social worker fumed. "Are you punishing me because I told you it wasn't possible?"

Erik rolled his eyes. "Aren't you punishing me because your boyfriend just left?"

"You think you could leave him out of this?"

"Fine. Then stop making my decisions for me."

"I'm your social worker. It's my _job_."

"I'm eighteen! Why do I still need you?"

"You know why," she spat back.

"Because I'm a 'troubled child'?" Erik made inverted commas with his spare hand. "Or because I'm your social project to get a promotion?"

"Because I can provide you with what you need when no-one else can," she said with smugness.

"So what I _want_ doesn't matter?"

"You're eighteen. You don't know what you want."

Erik stood up and said firmly, "I want to go to a specialist college. I want you to let me make my own choices. And I want you to stop trying to control my life just because you can't control yours."

"Well, you know what I want-" There was the sound of a door opening in the background. "Ugh, we'll continue this later." The social worker slammed the phone down.

"Can't wait," Erik said with sarcasm into the dead line, and put the phone back down.

"You're cruel," Emma observed.

"Hopefully she'll resign by the end of the week," Erik shrugged. "Then the agency might finally stop sending me new ones." Emma grinned and reached over to turn on the TV when Raven stormed in too, holding her chunky black room phone in one hand. "Did you just maim John's car?"

"Yeah," Erik smiled. "Looks like you'll have to walk."

"Has the fact that you're a complete psycho managed to escape your attention?" Raven shrieked, then swept back out, probably to call Ororo or another of her dumb friends. Erik was unruffled.

"So," Emma said as she flicked through the channels. "When were you gonna tell me Charles Xavier is hitting on you?"

"When I remembered you were a telepath too and I couldn't hide it?" Erik suggested.

"Hilarious."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is!" she laughed. "He _likes_ you."

"No, he doesn't," Erik replied. "He doesn't even know who I am; he's just trying to prove something. I bet he won't even look at me next week."

"You bet, do you?"

"Don't you _dare_ try and start that again," Erik groaned, and the television remote flew out of her hand and into his. "I'm deciding."

Emma rolled her eyes, but kept silent. Erik wouldn't know genuine interest if it hit him on the nose, anyway.

* * *

Erik was right, in a way. Next week, Charles didn't approach him again, at least not until he was approached by someone else. Twice.

The first time was on Tuesday, when he shut his locker to see John leaning against the side, glowering.

"When I shell out fifty, I expect results."

"I'm onto it," Charles promised, and turned away, but John moved round and blocked him.

"Watching the asshole violate my car doesn't count as a date," John attempted threatening. "If you don't get any, I don't get any. So let's go get some."

John started walking away, obviously convinced that was enough argument. Charles raised an eyebrow. He _really_ didn't like this guy, and he _really_ didn't like what he was thinking about Raven. "I just upped my price."

"What?" John turned back, frowning.

"A hundred dollars a date," Charles said sweetly. "In advance."

"Forget it."

"Forget his roommate, then."

John glared, then peeled another fifty out of his pocket.

"You'd better be as smooth as you think you are, Xaiver." Charles took the money with a smile.

The second time was the same afternoon, in the AP Biology class. Charles actually had English, but he made a habit of not attending the classes he didn't care about. He was pretty sure the school didn't mind, because he spent the time in _other_ classes that he'd rather be in, and it took a special kind of genius to skip class to attend class.

At the other end of the class, Hank and Kurt were elbowing each other. "Go."

"No, you go."

"I went before."

Hank edged towards Charles, trying to keep his thoughts strictly positive and friendly. Charles meanwhile, turned around before the nervous junior could even open his mouth. "Can I help you?"

"We know what you're trying to do," Hank jumbled out. "With Erik Lehnsherr."

"Is that right?" Charles crossed his arms. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

"Help you out," Hank said, and that may have taken Charles by surprise. But he looked closer, and his thoughts were clean.

"Why's that?" he asked suspiciously, but he already knew why.

"You see," another boy cut in, appearing from behind Hank and slinging an arm round him. "My friend Hank here has a major...crush...on Raven...Darkhölme," the boy, Kurt, tailed off as his courage failed him. He evidently knew who Charles was better than Hank.

"What is it with her at the moment?" Charles murmured, more to himself than the juniors, and he'd be lying if it wasn't with a tinge of worry. "Raven, what have you done?"

"Hey, you don't talk about her-" Hank started, but Kurt poked him in the ribs with his tail.

"I think I can speak correctly," Kurt tried again, "when I say that Hank's intentions are pure. Purer than say - John Allerdyce's."

Charles leaned against the desk and pressed his fingers to his temple, narrowing his eyes at Hank; within seconds, he knew everything about him. Hank shifted, uncomfortable, but Charles had seen enough. This kid wouldn't hurt a fly; and with his penchant for being afraid of his own mutation, he was a better match for Raven than he realised.

"Look," he explained, trying to be kinder, "I'm only in this for the challenge. I can't back out of John's deal now."

"John's not getting-" Hank started, and Kurt's tail flicked around again. " _Stop that_!"

"Look, Charles," Kurt said. "We really set this all up so Hank could get the girl. Hank. John's just a pawn."

Charles already knew that, but he could appreciate the boy's determination. "So...you're going to help me tame the wild beast?"

Kurt grinned. "We'll do some research on him."

"You realise I am a telepath?" Charles raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but you are also _der Ehrenmann_ \- a gentleman, right?" Kurt said. "Don't worry, we won't do anything illegal. Just find out what he likes, what he's doing this weekend. You know. We're your guys."

"And he means that in a strictly non-prison-movie type of way," Hank added.

Charles sighed, then nodded once.

Kurt grinned. "Let's start here! Now, Friday night. Scott Summers is having a party. It's the perfect opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

"For you to take out Erik," he insisted.

Charles shrugged. "I'll think about it." He turned back to his desk, his way of saying the conversation was over, and Hank and Kurt slipped away. At the end of the class, Kurt pulled Hank to his locker.

"This is also gonna be the opportunity for a little payback," Kurt grinned. He pulled out a sheet of yellow paper with the words 'Scott Summers: Dinner Party' written on it, a number and address at the bottom.

It took some photocopying skills, but by lunch the next day the flyers were ready. They were standing at the top of the stairs when the bell went, holding hundreds of sheets. Kurt nodded to Hank when the stairs were groaning with students.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Together, they flung the sheets out down the spiral staircase, and kids reached out to grab to sheets as the floated down. The curious chatter soon became excited as the whole school received invitation to 'Scott Summers' Party: FREE BEER!'

* * *

On Wednesday, John was hanging out by Raven's locker again when she arrived. He did that a lot at the moment: she'd tried telling him she wasn't really in a position to date, but he'd just laughed and claimed she was fine. Not that John wasn't nice or anything, but sometimes seeing him there _all the time_ made her want to turn into someone else and slip away into the crowd. But that would cause more problems than it already had; this stupid bet, or Charles, or even John leaning against her locker and smirking like cat with cream.

"Okay, now this is important," John said as soon as she'd arrived, without even a hello. He pulled two pictures out of his pocket. "Which do you like better?" They were headshots, exactly the same image but one with a white shirt and one with a black. Raven thought as she took out her books.

"Um, I think I like the white shirt better," she said eventually.

John nodded. "Yeah, it's more..."

"Pensive?"

"Damn. I was going for thoughtful," he admitted. He put the headshots away. "So, you going to Snot Summers' thing on Friday night?"

"Yeah, I might," Raven shrugged.

He smiled, flirtatious. "Good. Cause, you know, I'm not going to bother if you won't be there."

She blushed. _Maybe he's not such a burden after all._ "See you there then."

"Okay."

"Bye," she smiled, and walked away, rubbing her cheeks furiously.

Of course, as flirty as John was, she still couldn't technically see him - but Hank was holding up that end of things, hopefully. He was a nice kid like that, Raven thought. And at least he was helping her out with her French. Hank liked her, it was obvious, and she liked him too...just maybe not _that_ way. She sighed: as long as Erik never found out, what she was doing wasn't cheating.

She checked up with Hank that afternoon anyway, just to be sure. He was talking to his blue friend outside the bike sheds, and she grabbed his arm to drag him away and behind the dorms.

Hank, a little flustered, asked her, "Have you heard about Scott Summers' party?"

"Yes," Raven pouted. "And I really, really wanna go, but I can't. It's not just the bet - Erik's pulling the whole you're-sixteen-you're-not-responsible blah blah boring boring card. Obviously he's not going to go either."

"Yeah, I know," Hank said, sitting on the bench. "I'm working on that. But so far he's not going for my guy." There was a pause. "He's definitely..."

"A Freddie Mercury fan? Yes," Raven nodded. "I saw a picture of Jared Leto on his wall the other day, so I'm pretty sure he's harbouring some pent-up same-sex tendencies."

"Okay. So that's the type of guy he likes? Pretty guys?"

"I don't know," Raven sighed. "Although...I did hear him say to Emma the other day that he'd die before he dated someone who smokes."

"...Ah," Hank said. "Anything else?"

"You're asking me to investigate the inner workings of my roommate's twisted mind?" she laughed. "I don't think so."  
"Well, nothing else has worked. We need to go behind enemy lines." They looked at each other.

Ten minutes and an amateur lockpick later, they were standing inside Erik's room. Angry punk rock posters and social justice declarations covered every single wall, and everything was black. Even the carpet, though it was barely seen underneath the heaps of black clothes, books and tapes piled onto it.

"I hate messy rooms," Hank said, nudging a pair of jeans which his foot.

"Same," Raven muttered, and picked her way over to the desk nailed to the wall, which had large drawers in it and a computer on top. Raven leaned down and tapped a button on the keyboard.

"Woah," she muttered, as the screen flashed up, showing a webpage in the middle of construction. From the look of it, it was a lot of angry swears and words ending in "-ist".

"Is that a diary?" Hank said, interested.

"I think so?" Raven clicked on another link and brought up a whole page with similar messages, and some other people had commented on it at points. "No. It's a blog."

"About what?"

"I think he's just getting angry about things," Raven closed the page quickly. "He _really_ needs a boyfriend."

Hank tried to move over to the bed, but Raven grabbed his hand. "Don't move too many things. He might notice." She pushed aside a few small round magnets from off the desk and started picking up things, handing them to Hank. "Okay, here we go. Class schedule...reading list...date book...coffee receipts...um, concert tickets." She moved down into the drawer, and used a pencil to poke into the mass of underwear and t-shirts, jumbled together. "Aha!" She hooked something on the end of the pencil. "Black boxers!"

Hank leaned back as she held them up. "What does that tell us?"

"He wants to have sex someday, that's what," Raven grinned.

He blushed, hard. "He could just _really_ like black..."

"Hank, you don't buy black underwear unless you want someone to see it," Raven said knowledgeably. She replaced the item and the pencil.

"Oh," Hank muttered, still red. "So...could I see your room?"

"No!" she said quickly, looking away. "A bedroom is a personal place."

Hank looked around, opened his mouth, then shut it again.

* * *

Charles had given them an address on one of the back roads in town, but when Kurt and Hank pulled up on Kurt's bike the address revealed itself to be a bar. As they walked to the door, some guy in leathers and a helmet narrowed his eyes. "Nice bike."

"You think so?" Kurt smiled, but the guy didn't, and Hank pulled him away before he got stabbed or something.

Inside, the bar was dark and smoky, with a couple of snooker tables around and a record player in the corner. Kurt picked up an 8-ball from a table and studied it, but replaced it quickly when a man started walking towards him, pool stick in hand.

"So this is what a bar looks like?" Kurt murmured.

"Don't touch anything," Hank whispered back. "You might get hepatitis."

Charles was sitting by the bar on his own, beer in one hand, cigarette between his fingers. "So what have you got for me?" he asked immediately as Hank and Kurt crept up.

"A little insight into a very complicated guy," Hank said, and Kurt blinked.

"Just a question: should you be drinking alcohol if you're the Prince of Denmark?"

"What?" Charles stared.

"Nothing. Nothing," Kurt avoided quickly.

Hank rolled his eyes. "First thing: Erik hates smokers." He took the butt out of Charles's hand and stamped it into the floor.

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Are you telling me I'm a - _non-smoker_?" he spat the word out.

"Just for now," Kurt said.

"And there's another problem," Hank continued. "Raven said that Erik likes...pretty guys."

There was a long pause. Then:

"Are you telling me I'm not a pretty guy?" Charles seemed offended.

"He's very pretty!" Kurt turned on Hank. "He's a gorgeous guy!"

"I wasn't sure! I didn't know!" Hank tried to move past the moment by pulling out a piece of paper. "Alright. Okay. Likes: Thai food, political prose, and 'angry boy music of the indie-rock persuasion'. And there's a list of CDs he has in his room." Hank held the list out, and Charles took it gingerly.

"So. I'm supposed to buy him some noodles and a book and sit around listening to teens who can't play their instruments, right?" He seemed pretty confident.

Kurt hesitated. "Have you ever been to Club Skunk?"

"His favourite band's playing there tomorrow night," Hank explained.

Charles shook his head. "I can't be seen at Club Skunk."

"But he'll be there. He's got tickets," Hank insisted.

"Just assail your ears for one night," Kurt tried too.

Hank leaned a little closer and said, "He's got a pair of black boxers, if that helps."

Kurt elbowed Charles. "Couldn't hurt, right?" He attempted a wink, but Charles's unimpressed look stopped that pretty quickly.

So, somehow, Charles found himself walking down the hall into Club Skunk the very next night, receiving a lot of confused looks. The girls leaning against the walls observed his black blazer and fingerless gloves with amusement. It made him uncomfortable, and he didn't get uncomfortable easily; but he had a mission to do, a mission which was taking up more of his time than he'd intended. Even Moira had been annoyed with him for not meeting up tonight.

There was something undeniably fun about being in a club he'd never been to and hearing the thoughts of a group of people he'd never seen before. He wasn't the only guy here, thankfully - the band was an all-male punk group called Rage & Serenity. Near the front he saw Erik and Emma dancing in the middle of a crowd. He looked more laid-back here, less violent, and it made an attractive change to his usual stick-up-ass attitude.

Charles found the bar and pulled up a stool, while the bartender, Elizabeth, leaned over. "Xaiver! What are you doing here?"

Over in the crowd, Erik was sweating from the exercise, hair stuck to his forehead. "I need water!" he yelled to Emma, who nodded, and continued dancing. He made his way to the back, fanning himself with one hand and peeling off his leather jacket. At the bar, he asked the bartender for two waters and took a break, breathing hard. He looked around the club, at the dancers, and the drinkers, and- shit.

"If you're planning on asking me out again, you may as well just get it over with," Erik said, storming over to Charles. He was leaning against the bar, drink in hand and watching the band with interest.

Charles blinked, then looked over at Erik as if he'd only just seen him. "Would you mind? You're kind of ruining this for me." Then he looked away again.

Erik, for one, felt a little offended at the blatant ignorance, and Charles resisted a laugh as he saw Erik stutter and pause out of the corner of his eye. "You're not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke," Erik said eventually. The obvious attempt to continue conversation softened the cutting tone.

"I know. I quit," Charles said casually, taking a drink. "Apparently those things are bad for you."

"You did?" Erik was too surprised to be sarcastic, and Charles felt smug.

"You know," he commented, pointing at the band, "these guys are no Bikini Kill or Raincoats, but they're not bad." With that, he stood and walked into the crowd.

Behind him, Erik grabbed two bottles of water off the bar and followed, a string of thought trying to convince Charles it was against his will. Charles wasn't buying it. When Erik caught up with him right in the middle of the mass of people, he asked over the noise, "You know who the Raincoats are?"

"Why? Don't you?" Charles shouted. Then he leaned closer to Erik and grinning, said loudly, "I was watching you out there before...and I've never seen you look so sexy!"

The song ended just as Charles said it, and the crowd all looked at them and burst into laughter. Erik was embarrassed, but Charles just grinned. As the next song started up he turned to face Erik and said, "Come to Scott's party with me."

"You never give up, do you?" Erik frowned, but there was a hint of amusement, and he'd be lying if the question hadn't made him feel a little _something_. Somewhere in the crowd, Emma was having a field day. Erik started walking away.

"Wait, is that a yes?" Charles yelled after him.

"No!" Erik yelled back.

"So it's a no?"

"No!"

Charles laughed, and he could see even Erik was smiling for once. "I'll see you at nine-thirty then!" he shouted, but he wasn't sure Erik had heard him.

* * *

Raven peeked out of her door, saw the coast was clear, then indicated to Ororo to follow her. They crept down the corridor and past the kitchen, and they'd almost reached the door in the lounge when a voice said, "You should have used the window." The loveseat in the corner swung round and revealed Emma sitting in it, legs crossed and smiling. Only the cat was missing.

"Hello, person who doesn't live here," Raven said through gritted teeth.

"Hey. Where are we going?"

"Well, if you must know," Raven said dramatically. "It's a small study group of friends."

"Otherwise known as Scott Summers' party?" Emma guessed, grinning.

"Emma, it's not even a date!" Ororo sighed. "Why do you enjoy this so much?"

Just then, Erik walked in, holding a mug of coffee. He stopped when he saw the standoff. "What's going on in here?"

"You going to Scott's party?" Emma asked him. Erik shrugged.

"Emma, people expect me to be there!" Raven begged.

"Actually, I'm kind of with her on this one," Erik interjected. "You're sixteen. You shouldn't go."

"If Erik doesn't go, at least," Emma added, and Raven made a noise of anger.

"You're not my parents, you know," she spat. "Why can't you be normal?"

"Define normal," Erik said.

"Scott Summers' party is normal."

Erik took a sip of his coffee and sighed. "Scott Summers' party is just a lame excuse for all the idiots at our school to drink beer and rub up against each other in the hopes of distracting themselves from the pathetic emptiness of their-" Raven and Ororo joined in, "-meaningless, consumer-driven lives." Erik stopped, a little surprised at his own transparency.

Before any of them could reach a decision, however, their was a knock on their door, and Erik put down his coffee. "Hold on." He went to open it, and outside stood Charles, grinning.

Erik's eyes went wide, and he moved closer to the door to block the others from seeing. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.  
"Nine-thirty, right?" Charles said, and looked at his watch. "I guess I'm a little early..."

"Look, this isn't a good time..." Erik started, but Charles laughed and pushed past him.

"Fine, then I'll stay-" he stopped as he saw Raven, and a heavy silence hung over the room. Raven's expression blanked, and she turned and ran back along the corridor, and they all heard the door of her room slam shut.

"Raven-" Charles tried to go after her, but Erik grabbed his arm.

"You, stay," he commanded. "Ororo?"

"Um, maybe you should talk to her..." Ororo trailed off, looking put upon. Erik waited, but she was serious, so he sighed and followed Raven into her room.

"Raven, I didn't mean-" he said as he walked in, but the sight inside shut his mouth completely. Raven was sitting in front of her mirror, tears streaming down her face- her _face_. Her skin was no longer peaches-and-cream smooth, but blue and flecked with scales. The patterns went all across her shoulders and down where the back of her dress hung open. Her hair wasn't long and golden, but a short red bob. It was still Raven, undeniably, but it wasn't. Or at least the Raven he knew.

She turned as he walked in. "You have to make him leave. I can't face him. Not right now."

"What _happened_ to you?" Erik stared.

"This is me," she said miserably, holding a hand out to inspect her skin. "I mean, this is what I look like."

"...It's a mutation." It wasn't a question.

Raven looked at him, and slowly, a rippled of blue travelled from the end of her outstretched hand all the way up her body to her head. In a few moments, the person sitting in the chair was Erik himself. He took a deep breath. "It's..."

"...a burden," Raven/Erik spat out.

Erik blinked. "I was going to say amazing." Raven looked away, and he went to sit on the bed, still watching her. "...this is why you moved out, isn't it?"

"Charles was...afraid for me," she said quietly. "My real family left me for dead for what I looked like, and he encouraged me to keep it quiet until people were more accepting. And then at Wesni...I mean, the point is for me to be proud of who I am, right? So why couldn't I do it here?"

"But you're not," Erik said slowly. "You moved out three months ago, and you still..."

"I know!" Raven gritted her, Erik's, teeth. "I guess...I'm afraid, too. And I blamed him, and now look. He's falling apart without me. He's trying to date you, for god's sake."

Erik tried not to take offence to that. "You need to get to your priorities in place. Talk to your brother, change your look, do whatever you need. But stop this," he waved a hand at his likeness, and Raven changed it again quickly, back to her usual blonde face.

"I can't," she begged. "Not now. I will, soon, but I just want to go to a party and have fun. Can't you, for one night, pretend you're not completely wretched and be my friend? Please?" Erik hesitated. "Please? Erik, please, do this for me."

"...Fine. I'll make an appearance," Erik relented, grumpy.

Raven smiled, then pushed him towards the door. "Thank you," she grinned as she closed the door quietly.

Erik walked back to the lounge, where Charles and Emma were narrowing eyes at each other, in the middle of some telepathic conversation while trying to pretend they weren't. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa.

"I'm driving, rich boy," he said, dragging Charles out behind him by the hand. He yelped, and then laughed as Erik gave Emma a nod and shut the door.


	4. Alcohol Consumption Always Improves a First Date

"...then Raven told me I was right," Hank was saying as he fixed his hair in Kurt's mirror. "That she didn't wear the Kenneth Coles with that dress because she thought it was mixing genres. Right? And the fact that I noticed - and this is a direct quote - 'really meant something'." He looked at Kurt expectantly, grinning.

"You told me that part already," Kurt replied off-hand, pulling on a jacket.

"I've been thinking about it all the time..." Hank said dreamily, sitting down to put his shoes on.

"Stop being so self-involved for a minute," Kurt muttered, then said louder, "How do I look?"

Hank observed. "You look like my great uncle Milton."

"You think I should lose the tie?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you're right," Kurt nodded, and pulled it off. Then he removed his jacket and took another one down from the hook. "I'm just so nervous. You know? And I'm also very excited. I'm nervous and I'm excited. It's all very mixed up. I don't know-"

"Woah," Hank caught Kurt by the shoulders as he walked around the room, flustered. "Just calm down. It's alright."

"The last party I went to was a Chuck-E-Cheese," Kurt admitted. "You want to talk about some fun?" He snorted. "That was a good time." He walked out quickly, and Hank had no choice but to check his hair one last time, and follow him.

* * *

Scott Summers was having a great time. He'd heated up some of the food his uncle and aunt had left him when they'd gone away for the weekend and invited Jean, Bobby and Sean round for dinner. As he took the plate of steaming veg into the dining room, he heard the doorbell ring, and grinned at his girlfriend, Jean.

"Must be Warren with the dessert," he said, and put down the plate to go and open the door. "Hey-"

The tidal wave of students almost knocked Scott off his feet. Scott heard the cries of confusion from the dining room as herds of people continued coming through his doorway. He started shouting, trying to be heard over the noise and asking what they were all _doing_ here. But then someone found the record player in his lounge, some music with a heavy beat started playing, and all hope was lost.

Scott stared in despair as alcohol started being handed round, and then his eyes widened. " _ALEX!_ " He made for the stairs in anger.

Within an hour, the party was in full swing, with more than half the school crammed into the sprawling house. Kurt wandered through it, clinging onto a Solo cup full of beer, and attempted to socialise on his own while Hank was off searching for Raven. It didn't go so well.

"You know, I'm thinking of getting a Tercel," he was saying to a blonde girl, leaning against the arch in the upstairs balcony. "Yeah, that's a Toyota." The blonde looked disgusted, and started walking away with her friend. Kurt tried to follow her desperately. "It has dual-side airbags and a spacious back seat!"

As Kurt disappeared, Erik and Charles came up the stairs, the latter feeling thoroughly out of place. High school parties weren't his thing, and everyone here was well on the way to being so drunk their thoughts were just a confusing, messy haze. But Erik seemed pretty determined, charging through the house like a man on a mission, and Charles didn't want to abandon him. From the sound of his mind, Erik was also more uncomfortable than he let on.

A drunk girl threw herself at Charles, pulling his head down with scrabbling, drunk fingers. "Kiss me!" she slurred.

Charles grabbed her by the waist and moved her gently onto a loveseat where a lonely guy was sitting. "Kiss him," he suggested, and turned to find Erik. Who was gone. Charles swore quietly and pushed into another room, more than a little worried.

Erik had made his way back towards the back of the house, finding himself in one of the Summers' many lounges. He was just going to walk around for a while and then go home, he told himself. He turned to say the same to Charles, but he had vanished. Erik looked over the crowd, trying not to feel anxious, but Charles was nowhere to be seen. When he looked back he was confronted with someone who was definitely not Charles.

"Sweet!" John laughed, downing his cup and slinging an arm over Erik's shoulder. "Looking fresh tonight, Lame-sherr!"

Erik froze, panicked, and then recollected himself in the space of two seconds. Giving John a dark look, he pulled himself out of his grasp and then glanced, as if in shock, to his forehead. "Wait...what was that? Did your hairline just recede?"

Erik made an exit as John patted his hair, looking worried. Charles walked in seconds later, looked around, and cursed again. If only everyone could calm their minds for a _second_... He left, walking towards the stairs, and the guy he'd sat the girl with tore himself away from her kisses for a second to give him a thumbs up. "Thanks, man!"

Erik was two rooms away when John caught up with him again, pushing through a group of girls to get to him as he hurried down the back staircase. "Hey, where you going?"

"Away," Erik spat, trying to push down the irrational anger he was feeling. And he'd been so close to not coming...

"Where's your roommate?" John asked, pulling a drink out of someone else's hand.

Erik rounded on him, cutting off his path down the stairs. "You stay away from her," he snarled.

"Oh, I'll stay away from her if you want," John smiled lecherously. "But I can't guarantee she'll stay away from me."

Erik was about to throw a punch when someone else did it first, a loud crunch coming from the room next to the stairs. A jock guy jumped out of it, grinning. "FIGHT!"

The people on the stairs cheered and followed him, and John was swept away with them, waving to Erik who managed to stay upright. He suddenly felt the need for a drink.

Raven found her way to the front of the fight, cheering with everyone else and feeling very light-headed. It continued for a while, chairs tipping over and ornaments flying until Scott finally pushed his way to the centre and begged, "Guys, please, take it outside!"

One guy dropped the vase he was holding and grabbed the other by the shoulders, flinging him against the French windows into the garden. The doors smashed as the jock flew through them, and the other jock and half the crowd follow him through it, still yelling. "Thank you," Scott said weakly.

John slipped to Raven's side, hooking an arm through hers and breathing the stench of beer on her. Raven giggled, drunk, and the two of them stumbled across to the stairs. Erik bumped into them again, looking pale and clutching a Solo cup himself.

"Hey Erik, look who found me," John slurred. The two of them tried to get past, but Erik grabbed Raven's arm, pensive.

"Raven, wait."

Raven rolled her eyes, then stumbled from the dizziness. "Please don't talk to me in public," she said, back to her old snarky self.

"No, wait," Erik gripped her arm tighter. "There's something I need to tell you."

Raven turned around, eyes slightly unfocused as she glared at Erik. "Look, I'm busy enjoying my adolescence. I suggest you scamper off and do the same."

John laughed and pulled Raven closer by the waist. "Bye bye," he said, and the two of them disappeared.

Erik stood still, feeling sick to the stomach, and suddenly wished Charles was there.

A guy carrying a plate of shots popped up beside Erik right then. "Want one?" he shouted.

Erik looked at the plate, decided it was the next best thing, and downed one quickly, the sickly taste of vodka filling his mouth. Erik barely ever drank, but he put the glass down and picked up another, hoping it would make his thoughts go away.

"What's this?" a voice said, and Charles appeared on Erik's other side, looking concerned. Erik picked up a third shot as the guy carrying the plate laughed and said, "Right on, brother!"

"I've been looking all over the place for you," Charles continued as Erik drank, grabbing the hand as it came down.

" _I'm getting trashed, man_ ," Erik said, mocking, and his voice was blurry at the edges. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a party?"

"I don't know," Charles replied, still worried. The thoughts running through Erik's head were Richter Scale eight not good. "I say, do what you want to do."

"Funny, you're the only one," Erik grunted, and downed one last shot before tripping over his own feet towards the kitchen. "Later."

Charles blinked, then chased after Erik, brushing past Kurt. He was trying to dance along to the music and encouraging others, to no avail.

"Hi Heather!" he said happily to a girl from his English, but she just snapped, "Bite me," and walked away. Kurt, unfazed, shrugged and said: "Should've kept the tie."

Just then Hank appeared next to him, after having been gone for more than an hour, and Kurt was relieved.  
  
"Have you seen her anywhere?" Hank hurried out, grabbing the cup from Kurt's hand and downing it, stressed.

Kurt was about to say no when he saw Raven and her black friend coming down the stairs, giggling together.

"Relax. Relax," he said to Hank, pointing them out. "I'm telling you, follow the love. _Die Lieber_..." He drifted off as Hank made for her.

"Hi, Raven," he grinned.

"Oh. Hi, Hank," Raven stopped laughing and looked awkward, then pushed her friend between them them. "Do you know Ororo?"

"Uh...yeah?" Hank said, not sure where this was going. "We have trig together, right?"

"Great," Ororo said, unamused.

"So..." he tried, unsure. "You look really...amazing."

He missed Ororo's pitying glance, but caught Raven's uncomfortable "Thanks" full in the face. It was swiftly followed by the painful upper cut of John Allerdyce appearing on the stairs above them, laughing at Hank's comment. "We all know I look amazing," he deadpanned.

The girls laughed immediately, and Hank watched as Raven let John put an arm round her. "Let's go, babe," he said. "We're all congregating around Mr Cuervo."

"I'll see you round, okay?" Raven said apologetically as John pulled her away, Ororo in tow. When they'd almost gone, John turned around and gave Hank a thumbs up, grinning. Hank watched them leave, crushed.

Raven had felt a little guilty, leaving Hank behind like that. After an hour in John's company, who seemed to talk about nothing except modelling, the guilt was eating away at her bigger than ever. The alcohol had all worn off too, and all she wanted was to get away.

"So I've got the Sears catalog thing going," John was blathering. "And the tube sock gig - this is gonna be huge!"

There was a scream from somewhere in the house above them. Raven looked round as something fell past the window, but John was oblivious.

"And I'm up for a haemorrhoid cream ad next week," he continued, and Raven shuddered, disgusted. "I know it sounds kinda bogus, but...I gotta do some acting." They stopped for a moment, and Raven was looking out over the party, distracted by thoughts of what Hank was doing. John tapped her on the shoulder.

"You see what I did there?"

"Oh. Uh huh," she lied.

John nodded, approving. "That was underwear. I'll show you the bathing suit next." He started striking a pose, exactly the same to the one he'd just done.

"You see the difference?" he said, excited.

Raven looked away, disgusted again. John didn't care, turning to another person who'd been standing watching him. "I'll show you," Then he started the whole routine up again.

Raven could've laughed: it was all so _ridiculous_. Whoever had said that people with flashy cars where compensating for something were more than right. She used John's distraction to slip away into the crowd.

She passed some cowboys spitting tobacco, and some beatniks surrounded by a cloud of smoke. Before long she'd done a tour around the bottom of the house, back to where she started. John was still striking poses to a group of girls next to the beer kegs.

She felt sick, not just from the alcohol but the whole situation. It didn't help when she turned around to see Hank right in front of her, trying to avoid her and failing. They locked eyes for a moment before she squeaked and escaped again.

Ororo was by the stairs, and Raven found her, grateful. "Is it just me, or does this party all of a sudden suck?" she said angrily, and pulled Ororo away to the door. Behind them, Hank looked sour.

Charles meanwhile, had forced his way into the kitchen to finally find Erik leaning against the counter, face devoid of colour and another shot in his hand. By the look of it, he'd had others too.

"Hey, hey!" Charles moved closer, waving a hand in front of his face, and trying to take the shot out of Erik's hand. "Why don't you let me have this one, huh?"

Erik shook his head with the childish determination of someone completely wasted. "No. No! This one's mine." He pushed away from Charles and made for the dining room. Before Charles could follow him, someone was slapping a hand on his shoulder.

"How'd you make him do it, man?" John laughed, drunk.

"Do what?"

"Act like a human," he said, and pointed to where Erik had started jerking and convulsing in the middle of the room. Charles guessed it to be a dance. People started cheering him on, and John ran off the join them, yelling.

"Oh _shit_ ," Charles breathed, and tried to push through the crowd, and Erik carried on dancing to the music. Up on the balcony, he spied Raven, who was staring at Erik too, and he caught a wave of concern from her direction. At least someone else had this party had their head screwed on right.

The crowd was getting bigger, and Charles was struggling to get closer to Erik. Just as he broke through the first line, Erik tripped on the carpet and fell right into Charles's arms, dizzy. He slumped further to the carpet and then dropped, hitting his head on the floor. The crowd cheered.

 _Are you alright?_ Charles dropped the question right into Erik's head, tired of the noise.

"I'm fine...fine..." Erik mumbled out into the floor. Charles took that as permission to grab him by the armpit and drag him up, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"You're not fine. Come on," he commanded, and pulled him into the corridor, trying to find the exit.

"I just need to lie down somewhere," Erik said, slurring.

"Yeah. You lie down and you'll go to sleep," Charles said through gritted teeth as he located the door and made a beeline.

"Sleep is good..." Erik murmured, smiling.

"Not if you have a concussion," Charles pointed out, and pushed them out of the party and into open air.

* * *

Outside, there were a few partygoers smoking or making out by the wall, but it was mainly empty and thankfully, quieter. Charles guided Erik to a stone bench and sat him down, soothing. "Come on. It's okay. Just sit down. Sit."

Just as Erik had curled over on himself, groaning, Hank appeared next to them, and tapped Charles on the shoulder. "We need to talk."

Charles had his hand on Erik's shoulder, and looked up at Hank pointedly. "I'm a little busy right now."

"Can you give me a second?" Hank insisted, and goddamn, if he wasn't a little drunk too. Charles made sure Erik was upright and pulled Hank aside.

"You have thirty seconds."

"It's off, alright?" he said, a little tearfully. "The whole thing's off."

"What are you talking about?"

"She never wanted me!" Hank sniffed. "She wanted John. I feel so _stupid_."

Charles didn't have time for this. "Hank. Do you like her?"

"Yeah," Hank muttered.

"Yes. And is she worth all this trouble?" If Hank got this wrong, then he wasn't the guy Charles would have let date his sister.

"Well, I thought she was," Hank started, and Charles winced. "But, you know, I..."

"Well, she is or she isn't. See, first of all, John's not even half the man you are." Charles glanced over at Erik again, then put his hand on Hank's shoulder. "Secondly, don't let anyone ever make you feel you don't deserve what you want. Just go for it." He gave Hank an encouraging slap on the arm, then saw Erik start to fall off the bench out of the corner of his eye. Quick as a flash, he was by his side, and caught him before he hit the ground. Again.

"Come on," he said to Erik, and pulled him down Scott's drive. Hank was left standing there, unsure what to make of this advice.

Charles walked towards the gate, Erik's arm over his shoulder. Erik had thankfully stopped groaning, and was even finding strength somewhere to hold up a bit of his own weight. They made their way down the drive, but instead of going to Erik's car, Charles took a left into the Summers' garden. He didn't feel safe driving just yet.

He continued to give Erik encouragement as they walked. It was quickly shut down by Erik interrupting, "You're so patronising."

"Trust you to use big words when you're smashed," Charles observed.

Erik removed his arm and pushed away from Charles. "No I'm not," he said fiercely, but fell over even as he said it, and Charles caught him for the third time in an hour.

"Okay now?" Charles smirked, and Erik just shook his head and groaned again.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"I told you. You may have concussion," Charles rolled his eyes. Erik frowned at him.

"It's not like you care if I never wake up."

"Sure I do," he grinned, and gave Erik another of his sly looks from the side. Erik felt self-conscious all over again, and said before he could stop himself, "Why?"

He regretted it as he said it, but Charles wasn't fazed. They stopped by a swing set. "Well, because then I have to start taking out guys who actually like me."

Erik should've known it'd be a witty response. He looked down to keep his balance, saying skeptically, "Like you could find one."

"See that, there?" Charles ducked his head down so he caught Erik's gaze. "Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?"

Erik half-smiled, and looked away. "Let me sit down for a while." He walked over to the swing with surprising steadiness, plopped down on the seat and tangled his hands through the ropes. When he looked up, Charles just watching, smiling as always. Erik felt himself smile too, and after a moment realised they'd been staring at each other like some sappy love film or something. He shut his eyes quickly just to get the moment over, and shifted in his seat. When he opened his eyes again, he facing the ground, Charles holding him up just before he hit it.

"Jesus," Charles laughed. "I've been doing this all night." Erik struggled up quickly, embarrassed, and climbed back onto the swing as Charles sat in the next one. He looked out over the street, trying not to look at Charles again in case he fell.

"So why'd you let him get to you?" Charles asked after a moment.

"Who?"

"John."

Erik gritted his teeth and thought determinedly about magnets. "I hate him."

Charles didn't question Erik's insistence to stay out of his head. "Well, you've chosen the perfect revenge, mainlining vodka," he said, after a moment. They both laughed.

"Well, you know what they say..." Erik said, leaning his head against the rope. His eyelids felt heavy suddenly.

"No. What do they say?" Charles frowned, and then glanced over at Erik. He was asleep. "Shit!" Charles jumped off the swing and crouched next to Erik, shaking his shoulders. "No. No no no. Erik. Come on, wake up! Look at me! Listen to me, Erik. Open your eyes!" Finally, he grabbed his face and slapped him.

Erik jerked awake. "Hey," he murmured drowsily. "Your eyes are really blue."

Charles sighed in relief, and grinned again. Erik smiled back, and there was another long pause as he studied his face, then started to lean forward. He leaned right past Charles, and threw up on the grass.

* * *

Raven was shivering outside Scott's house, wishing Ororo was there to conjure up some cool breeze. But she'd starting chatting to Hank's blue friend at some point, and wasn't leaving now. Groups of kids were exiting the house, and she looked away quickly as John jogged up to her, grinning.

"A bunch of us are going to Jaret's house. Ready?"

"Uh, I have to be home in twenty minutes," Raven said quickly. "Why don't you take Rachel or someone?" She nodded to the ginger girl over in the crowd.

John looked at Rachel, raised an eyebrow and looked back at her. "You really can't come?"

"No. Damn," she said, trying to sound upset and not really caring if she didn't.

"...okay," John shrugged, and walked off in Rachel's direction. Raven narrowed her eyes. "Asshole."

All she wanted was to go home. But Ororo was driving, and she didn't want to go back into the party in case she bumped into Charles. So she stood there, looking lost, until Hank brushed past her and muttered, "Hey. Have fun tonight?"

"Tons," Raven said without conviction. He continued walking away, and she felt bad even as she said it, but she called after him anyway. "Hank?"

He stopped. He always would.

"Do you think you could give me a lift home?"

* * *

Erik was still drunk, so Charles was driving. He leant back in the seat and only had one hand on the wheel even though Erik kept telling him this was a _truck_ , not a sports car. But Charles never listened, and they were so close together in the cab it wasn't like Erik couldn't keep an eye on it. Music was playing too, Pavement's new single, and as he listened Erik said a thought out loud. Charles could hear them anyway.

"I should do this."

"What?" Charles said, glancing over.

"This." He pointed at the stereo.

"Start a band?"

"No, install car stereos," Erik said sarcastically. "Yeah, start a band. My social worker would love that."

Charles didn't reply until they pulled up in front of the dorm building, killed the engine and handed Erik's keys to him. It was almos silent when he turned the stereo off, which was probably why he felt the need to speak quietly. "You know, you don't strike me as the type that would ask for your social worker's permission."

Erik raised an eyebrow, and looked over at him, sitting just those few long inches away. "So, now you think you know me?" Somehow, he was speaking quieter too.

"I'm getting there," Charles smiled, and Erik felt that little Something again. Might have been more vomit.

Still, his voice has lost its venom when he looked away and smirked joylessly, "The only thing most people know about me is that I'm 'scary'."

"Yeah, well, I'm no picnic myself," Charles murmured back. Erik had no choice but to look at him when he said it, staring way too long into his eyes like there was a Goo Goo Dolls song playing in the background.

Charles spared him the stare by looking away after a moment. "So, what's the deal with your social worker? Is he a pain in the arse?"

"No..." Erik shrugged. "She just wants me to be someone I'm not."

"Who?"

"Raven, probably."

"Ah...Raven," Charles said, and a new pain was in his voice when he said it. Erik felt bad, but he continued, "Well, no offence intended, because I care a lot about Raven too...still. But I've known her too long to be intrigued by her like everyone else seems to be. Not like I am by you."

That time the feeling was definitely not vomit, and Erik looked at him with a smile tugging on even his mouth. Charles just seemed to have that effect. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," he observed. Charles grinned, and that was all the hint a drunken Erik needed to lean forward, eyes shut, waiting for what would inevitably happen.

And waiting. And waiting. And then he finally opened his eyes, and Charles was looking out his window, awkward. "Maybe we should do this another time."

Whatever vaguely romantic atmosphere Erik had been picking up on melted away with those seven words. A fierce embarrassment replaced it, that derailed quickly into rage. He pulled away from Charles like he'd been electrocuted, threw the door open and stomped back to his dorm, somewhere between fuming and sobbing.

The second time he'd been almost seduced by a good pickup line and a party? He was pathetic.

* * *

The tension in Hank's car was palpable as he pulled up to Raven's dorm. He saw Charles' car drive away out of the corner of his eye, but was far too preoccupied by the embarrassed silence emanating from the seat next to him. He finally broke it. "You never wanted to go sailing with me, did you?"

Raven winced, and then tried after a moment, "Yes...I did."

Hank shook his head, smiling painfully. "No. No you didn't."

There was another long pause, then finally: "Well, okay. No. Not actually-"

"Then that's all you had to say!" Hank threw his hands up, cutting her off in annoyance. "Have you always been this selfish?"

Raven looked down at her hands, the smooth white of them that so cleverly hid what she really was. "Yes." She let a ripple over her thumb, pulling the pale skin back to reveal her own, unique blue. "I'm working on it." When Hank looked over to her, it was with yellow eyes that she looked back.

He stared at her for a long time. She just knew he was going to push her out of the car, hating her for the lies and cruelty she'd put him through, but she had to start the truth somewhere. She reached for the handle.

"You know, just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter," Hank said weakly, and Raven stopped. "I mean, I really like you, okay? I defended you when people called you conceited. I helped you when you asked me to. I saw something in you that no-one else would, and maybe I didn't realise it was quite a mutation, but...I learned French for you! And then you just blow me off-" That was when she kissed him.

A few minutes later, Raven pulled away while Hank just sat there, stunned, and smiled at him. Then she climbed out of the car without another word.

Hank was still until she disappeared through the doors, and then a large grin spread over his face.

"And I'm back in the game!"


	5. Frankie Valli Saves All Relationships

More people talked to Erik on Monday morning than he even thought knew he existed. Unfourtunately, none of it was positive.

"Erik, darling, you dance to the rhythm of my heart," a beatnik girl, Cassidy, sang as he walked past their group on the square.

"Dance for me, cowboy," another guy, Clem, yelled as he walked into English.

But the real stinger came when John winked at him and teased, "Erik, man, what do you we owe you for the dance?" Erik tensed up, and every pen in the room raised in the air, pointed towards John, and _flew_.

"Erik, stop!" a voice commanded, and Erik whirled around to see Logan standing in the doorway, holding a pile of books and narrowing his eyes. The pens halted, then dropped to the floor.

As the class started complaining about their lost stationery, Logan marched in and dumped the books in Erik's arms. "Hand these out, basket case."

The only thing that could've made it worse was Charles turning up. At least he skipped English.

"Alright, not that I care, but how was everyone's weekend?" Logan said as Erik put books on everyone's desks.

"Oh, I don't know," John smiled lazily as he passed his desk. "Maybe we should ask Erik."

"Unless he kicked the crap out of your dumb butt, I don't want to hear it," Logan replied calmly.Erik was pleased to see John's face fall. "Okay, let's open up our books to page 73, sonnet 141."

Erik sat back down at his desk, flipping open his own copy of _Shakespeare's Sonnets_. Logan cleared his throat. "Listen up: In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes / For they and thee a thousand errors note. / But 'tis my heart loves what they despise / who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote."

Erik, who had been studying the page without much interest, sat up as Logan began to recite, and was impressed despite himself. Unlike two-thirds of the faculty, Logan was a teacher who taught, but that didn't mean Erik listened in his lessons. He had never really been into poetry either, but he could kind of get behind what this one was talking about. No, wait, he wasn't supposed to think about that. But still...he grinned as he read on.

"Now, I know Shakespeare's a dead British guy. But he knows his shit," Logan was saying as he walked up and down the aisles, "so we can overlook that. I want you all to write your own version of this sonnet."

The class groaned, but Erik raised his eyebrows. Maybe this assignment wasn't so bad as the others. He put up his hand, and Logan, who had been walking away from him, stopped and sighed.

"Yes, Mr-I-have-an-opinion-about-everything?"

"Do you want this in iambic pentameter?" he asked, sincere.

Logan turned around, surprised. "You're not going to fight me on this?"

"No. I think it's a really good assignment," he said, frowning at Logan's confusion.

There was a pause as Logan stared, and then laughed. "You're just messing with me, aren't you?" he glared at Erik again.

"No. I'm really looking forward to writing it," Erik said defensively, but Logan was having none of it.

"Get out of my class."

"What?!"

"Out. Go on!" Logan pointed to the door, then shook his head and walked back to the front. Erik waited, confused, then huffed and picked up his bag, making for the door.

"Thanks Logan," John grinned when Erik left.

"Shut up."

* * *

 Raven got her fair share of stares too on Monday, but it wasn't because she'd drunk danced her way to infamy on Friday. And it wasn't because she was wearing a black t-shirt and black skirt even though it was almost the end of October, and she never wore black. But that colour was really the only thing that matched her new red hair and yellow eyes. That was also all Wanda said when she walked up to her friends before class - of course, they had a real talk about it later. But at the moment, all Raven could do was thank her and look down at her blue skin, and think: _beautiful_.

* * *

 At the end of the week, Ororo was finding the books from her next lesson when the smell of brimstone surrounded her. She turned to see Kurt looking at the posters in her locker.

"That's a cool picture," he observed. "What's the collar for? To keep him from licking his stitches?" He laughed, and Ororo looked at him.

"...kidding," Kurt said when he saw she wasn't laughing. "No, because I know you're a fan of Shakespeare."

"And how do you know that?" she said skeptically, and shut the locker.

"You told me at the party last week, remember?" he shrugged, leaning against the door.

"No, I didn't."

"Maybe you forgot. We did talk a lot on Friday. Guess we got along pretty well, huh?" Kurt grinned, and Ororo rolled her eyes and started walking away. They did talk on Friday, and Kurt was nice and everything, but if he was going to-

"Who could refrain that had a heart to love, and in that heart..." he started behind her, and Ororo stopped.

"...courage to make love known?" she finished, and turned around slowly, surprised.

"Macbeth, right?" Kurt looked innocent. Ororo took a few steps back to him.

"Right," she replied, happily stunned. Usually, people laughed at the whole Shakespeare thing; it wasn't exactly a normal obsession. And she was sure Kurt hadn't known anything about Shakespeare on Friday, so that meant he'd read it over the weekend - for her? That was kind of...sweet.

Kurt seemed happy he'd got her attention, and he leaned closer conspiratorially. "So, listen...I have this friend..."

They talked about what Kurt needed to know for only few minutes, but it was still another ten minutes before they walked away. Kurt looked down at the number written on his arm and praised himself for the weekend cramming. He hurried off to the field, where Hank and Charles were sitting on the bleachers. The latter was trying to pretend he wasn't watching Erik kick the ball angrily around the field.

It'd been a week since the party, and Erik still hadn't said a word to him. He didn't have his number, so he couldn't call him. Every time he tried to approach him he got a strongly-worded warning from Emma in his head telling him to, quote, "fuck the fuck off". He was guessing Erik was annoyed, which was totally justified, but he couldn't keep this up forever. They had classes together; or they would have, if Charles attended them.  
  
"What did you do to him?" Hank asked.

"I didn't _do_ anything," Charles replied sullenly. "He would've been too drunk to remember."

"But the plan was working," he said emphatically, leaning forward.

"What do you care? I thought you wanted out."

"Yeah, well...I did," Hank smiled shyly, rubbing a hand on his neck. "But that was before she kissed me."

That got Charles's attention, and he leaned forward, interested. Of course he'd noticed Raven's change in the last week, it was all over school, but if anything people just loved her even more. And so did he; he was proud of her, and now he knew why. "When?" he asked, grinning.

"In the car," Hank looked down at his hands dreamily, and Charles raised an eyebrow.

Before he could say anything, however, a whistle blew on the track right next to them. There was a grunting sound and they looked over the see a jogger sitting on the ground, rubbing their head while Kurt backed away.

"Dweeb!" one of the other joggers yelled at him.

"Sorry! Really sorry!" Kurt hurried out, then turned and ran to Hank and Charles quickly before they descended on him. "Wow, that was really-"

"Did you find out?" Charles interrupted, sitting up.

"Yes. Alright. I talked to her. Got the scoop," Kurt sighed, sitting down. Seemed like no-one wanted to talk about _him_ these days.

"What did he say?"

Kurt hesitated. "'Hates him with the fires of a thousand suns.' That's a direct quote."

Charles groaned and leaned back against the bleachers, resisting the itch to pull out a cigarette. "Thanks, Carl. That's really comforting of you," he said drily.

"We don't know," Hank tried to be consoling. "He could just need another day to cool off."

A soccer ball flew out of nowhere and collided with Charles's head, knocking him off the bleacher with a yelp. Hank and Kurt looked around in shock, and as Charles struggled up they saw Erik standing in the field, glaring menacingly. When he saw them looking, he flipped them off and walked away.

"Maybe two days," Hank added weakly.

* * *

 Two days went by. And then two weeks. And still they didn't talk.

Every time Charles saw Erik, even from a distance, he got a sense of fierce hostility. Sometimes, Charles thought he was imagining it to make himself feel better. It didn't help that his old friends had convinced him to hang out with them again. He liked them sure, but it most likely just convinced Erik he really didn't care about him. The problem was, he really did, but he couldn't lie to him any more about the whole payment thing from John. But he didn't know how to explain it when Erik wouldn't even come close to him.

Erik, on the other hand, was throwing himself into his work with determination. Any sane person might comment was because he was distracting himself, but clearly he wasn't. It was just because it was his senior year, and he needed to keep up his GPA so he could definitely go to Massachusetts. His concentration had dropped due to certain...obstacles at the beginning of term, but he was over that now. Totally. Definitely. He'd made one really long blog post about it so he was over it. The comment section didn't count.

It wasn't like he had many social events to go to, so focusing on work wasn't hard. But as November reached its centre talk became only about one thing: the stupid winter formal. He'd caught Raven flipping through catalogues that weekend, complaining that she clashed with everything. Even the teachers were asking who was planning to go with who. He didn't need to know; it wasn't like he ever went.

Speaking of the formal... Erik groaned as he walked into the square and saw another poster, with its stupid ""integration"" picture on the front. He tore it down and showed it to Emma.

"Can you imagine who would go to this antiquated mating ritual?" he rolled his eyes.

Emma pursed her lips, raising one hand fractionally into the air. "Uh, I would. But I don't have a date."

He stared at her, offended. "Do you really want to get all dressed up so some Drakkar Noir-wearing Dexter with a boner can feel you up while you listen to a band that, by definition, sucks?"

"Honey, I think you're getting confused with the boys _you_ date," she said snidely, and then caught the look on Erik's face. "Ooh. Touched a nerve?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Erik shrugged it off, pushing the poster in her face. Emma was a telepath; she wasn't fooled. "But seriously? This looks like a good idea to you? The total opposite of a recipe for a disaster?"

"Alright, alright, we won't go!" she waved the poster away, huffing. "It's not like I have a dress or anything."

He stopped, turning to face her. "You're looking at this from completely the wrong perspective," he said knowledgeably. "We're making a statement."

Emma's eyes widened, and she clapped her hands. "Oh, goody! Something new and different for us!"

Erik made a face at the sarcasm, but pulled her along towards the cafeteria anyway. "You'll see. We won't miss anything."

* * *

 Raven felt completely disillusioned as she walked away from another French session with Hank. She was getting better at French, her grade increasing steadily since he'd been teaching her. But you know what hadn't increased? Her chances of going to the formal, which was only for juniors and seniors. And guess which junior had still not asked her to go.

When she'd seen Hank that Monday after the party, they'd made prolonged eye contact as she'd walked down the corridor with her new look. She'd smiled, and he'd smiled, and she thought it was only a matter of time before they got together. But the days had passed, and he'd been lovely and awkward to her as always - but hadn't _asked her out_. What was a girl supposed to do, ask him to take her?

Thoughts about Hank and their situation completely occupied her mind as she changed for gym. In class they were doing archery so she focused her mind on that, trying doubly hard to hit her targets and keep her posture right. She was concentrating so much she didn't notice an unwelcome figure creeping up on her.

"Hey there, Cupid," a voice dripping with self-indulgence said.

She gritted her teeth and didn't look round. "Hi, John."

"You're concentrating awful hard considering it's gym class," John remarked. She sighed, dropped the bow and released the arrow.

"Can I help you?" she said sweetly as Mrs Chapin yelled and dropped to the floor, clutching the arrow sticking from her pants.

"I want to talk to you about prom."

"Look, you know the deal. I can't have a date unless Erik does."

"Your roommate is going."

"Since when?" Raven asked, surprised.

"Let's just say I'm taking care of it," John said mysteriously. He picked up another arrow from her quiver, handed it to her and walked away. Raven was left standing there, more conflicted than before.

John's idea of "taking care of it" turned out to be pulling Charles down from where he was smoking behind the bleachers (if Erik didn't see, it didn't count, right?) and handing him two $100 bills.

"Here. This should take care of the limo, the flowers, the tux, everything," he said brusquely. "Just make sure he gets to the formal."

Charles took the money, but didn't put it in his pocket. Instead, he looked out over the field, where Erik was playing soccer like every week. He was pretty good; Charles had seen him play every time since the party. He took a last drag on the cigarette and stubbed it out absent-mindedly on the bleacher.

"You know what? I'm sick of playing your little game." He pushed the cash back into John's hand.

John rolled his eyes, but pulled another bill out of his pocket. "You're sick of, say, three hundred?"

Charles glared at him. "I don't need your money."

"Are you backing out of our deal, Xavier?" John's hand clenched into a fist around the cash. "Scared of hurting your precious boyfriend? Have you even spoken to him since the party?"

A furious expression flitted across Charles's face. "If I take him to the bloody winter formal, I'll do it with my _own_ money, thank you."

He started walking away, but John laughed. "This money isn't just for Erik, you know. I mean, I'm taking your sister; without a little bit of bargaining, who's to say she won't get...hurt?"

Charles froze. _That bastard_. If anything, that was more of an incentive to not give her the opportunity to go. But this was Raven - telling her not to do something was almost a guarantee she'd do it. He turned around and took John's money, tortured.

Now that he had to find a way to make Erik forgive him, the sick feeling in his stomach got even worse. Erik always went into town on Saturdays, so he went too the next day. He hung around the music store until he saw Erik walk in, wearing his typical black headphones, turtleneck and tight jeans. But instead of going to the tapes and CDs at the back of the store, he headed to the front, browsing through the guitars until he found a slim Encore bass (black, of course). He took it down, sat down on a stool and picked at the thick metal strings in a semblance of a tune. Charles watched him over the records as he pulled out his Walkman and reset the song, then tried to fill in the bassline. He couldn't hear himself, but he was pretty good.

Charles started walking towards him, but just as he got there Erik played a difficult hook perfectly, and grinned. Something in that smile meant he just - couldn't. Charles walked out of the store, feeling pained.

Another hour later, he finally decided to give it a proper go. Erik was in the bookstore, browsing through the political section. Charles came up on the other side of the shelf and followed him over the stack of books to the end, until they were face to face.

"Excuse me, have you seen The German Mystique? I've lost my copy," he admitted innocently.

Erik's expression turned sour, and pulled off his headphones. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a poetry reading."

"You're so-"

"Charming?" Erik glared and started to walk away. Charles followed. "Wholesome?" he tried again.

"Unwelcome," Erik rounded on him.

Charles's grin dropped, and he pursed his lips. "You're not as mean as you think you are, do you know that?"

"And you're not as badass as you think you are," Erik shot back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at him.

"Well, someone still has their underwear in a twist."

"Don't think for one moment you had any effect whatsoever on my underwear."

"Then what did I have an effect on?"

Erik shrugged and looked over at the bookshelf next to him, running his fingers along it until he found a book. "Other than my gag reflex? Nothing." He slammed the copy of The German Mystique on Charles's chest and marched out of the store.

Well, that went _great_.

On Monday, he was grabbing lunch from the cafeteria when Hank and Kurt appeared on either side of him.  
"You were right. He's still pissed."

Kurt sighed, and raised a hand dramatically. "Sweet love, renew thy force!"

"Hey!" Charles grabbed his hand and pulled it down, looking offended. "Don't say shit like that to me. People can hear you."

Hank leaned over as he reached for the pasta. "Look. You embarrassed the guy. Sacrifice yourself on the altar of dignity and even the score."

Charles stared at him, then walked away, scowling.  
Kurt moved closer to Hank. "Don't say shit like that around him. People can hear you."

Still, Charles considered as he finished his lunch, Hank actually had a point. Erik was all about pride - Charles had made him look bad, so the only thing to do in return was to do the same. Luckily, Charles had no such issues with reputation by this point, and by the time he walked into algebra he had a plan. Probably stupid and definitely pathetic, but a plan nonetheless.

It didn't take much organising - one of John's $100 bills went to good use in the hand of the pudgy Hispanic kid from band. A quick suggestion dropped into the head of the audio techie manning the school stadium's controls that it was a _great_ idea to go get coffee, and he was ready. Luckily, the soccer team were having extra practice on Tuesday afternoon because of the match next week, so he didn't have to wait till Friday for Games.

Erik was breathing hard from soccer practice, but a good kind of pain that made him feel better than he had in weeks. If only the team was the same: it was pretty much guaranteed they were going to lose the match. He supposed that was a theme in his life at the moment. Still, he didn't welcome coach's announcement of a water break. He was just about to ask if he could do some scoring to let out angst when the speakers around the stadium crackled and spit. The whole team looked up.

But instead of the usual droning voice of the announcer telling them there was a fire drill or something, there was... _singing_.

" _You're just too good to be true, I can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much_ ," a boy's voice crooned, sweet and smiling. As Erik stared, he spied movement as someone slid down the speaker pole from the control room to the top of bleachers, stepped into the light and... _Oh. My. God._

" _At long last love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes...off..of you_ ," Charles Bloody Xavier sang, swaggering over the bleachers with a smile as the whole soccer team started laughing and pointing. None of them seemed to realise it was for Erik until Charles pointed on the last word, and Erik felt his face burning. He couldn't believe-

Just then Charles nodded across the field, and Erik looked around to see the _whole fucking band_ standing at one end of the stadium. A fat boy at the head nodded once and blew a whistle. Then the music started up, and Erik's eyes went even wider as Charles jumped down from the bleachers and sang enthusiastically as he could;

 _Pardon the way that I stare_  
_There's nothing else to compare_  
_The sight of you leaves me weak_  
_There are no words left to speak_  
_But if you feel like I feel_  
_Please let me know this is real_  
_You're just too good to be true_  
_Can't take my eyes off of you_

The chorus started in, and Charles winked before walking up and down the rows, getting closer and closer and almost dancing along, and all the time singing.

 _I need you baby_  
_And if it's quite alright_  
_I need you baby_  
_And if it's quite alright_  
_I need you baby_  
_To warm the lonely nights_  
_I love you baby_  
_Trust in me when I say it's okay_

Erik was laughing too now, because it was all totally ridiculous, because _Charles Bloody Xavier_ was actually singing _Frankie Valli_ at him across the _bleachers_. It was completely embarrassing and so, so _funny_. Then he saw the two school security guards moving towards Charles, totally oblivious, and somehow that was just even better. Erik might have been high off endorphins before, but this was something else.

 _Oh pretty baby_  
_Don't bring me down I pray_  
_Oh pretty baby_  
_Now that I've found you stay_  
_And let me love you, baby_  
_Let me love you_

Just as Charles finished the line, he looked around and jumped almost comically at the security guards. Then he was off, running across the bleachers while the two chased after him. The band was still playing, and Erik was still laughing - especially when Charles ducked under a guard's arm, jumped down two levels and started doing a jazz walk across the bleacher. Then he sprinted off again as the other guard got close.

In a minute the band finished their song, and the soccer team started clapping appreciatively, still chuckling. Erik quietened down too, but the grin on his face was still there as Charles stopped running and held out his hands. He looked relaxed and even jokey as the guards pushed him towards the exit, displeased. The grin on Erik's face didn't leave for a while.

* * *

 Charles was leaning back in the chair in the centre of the detention room. Mrs Chapin had put him there with a heavy side eye after he'd been shoved in from the stadium. She was sitting at the front of the room now, watching them all with distaste, She was glaring at Charles especially, who was chewing his pencil and smiling sweetly. She didn't like him because she was a games teacher and he hadn't gone near a gym kit since eighth grade, according to her thoughts. But she also didn't like anyone else in this room, so he wasn't too bothered.

Just then Mrs Chapin spied her next victim in the back of the room. She started strolling down the aisles, then stopped by his desk.

"You look pretty nervous," she commented casually.

"Yes ma'am." The boy, a punk with too much eyeliner, flicked his eyes around quickly.

"You're sweating like a pig." She leaned a little closer.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Your eyes are all...bloodshot."

"Yes...ma'am."

Pause. "You've got pot, haven't you?"

The kid froze, then sighed and reached into his bag, pulling out an impressively large plastic bag of weed and holding it out to Chapin. Charles raised an eyebrow; she'd guessed fast.

"I'm confiscating this," Chapin announced, then marched back to the front of the class. Just before she got there, however, she stopped by another student's desk, who had a bag of Cheetos lying in front of them.

"This too," she said suddenly, grabbing the bag, and Charles resisted laughter.

He looked out of the window, bored out of his head. Then he heard the door open and looked around to see Erik, his Joy Division T-shirt still sticking to his body and his brown hair still wet from a shower. He caught Charles's eye and nodded once, before walking up to Chapin where she was leaning against the front desk.

"Um, coach? I have some ideas on how we can improve the soccer team," Erik said nervously, trying to stand behind Chapin so she was forced to look round.

"Great!" Chapin smiled without looking up from the paperwork. "Let's talk about it later."

Erik opened his mouth and shut it again, then made eye contact with Charles and mouthed something. Charles stared, confused. Erik mouthed it again, and Charles sighed and pressed two fingers to his head. _Climb out of the window, dumbass._

Just then Chapin turned around, and Erik laughed awkwardly. "So, as you know we have this game with Hillcrest High..."

Charles slipped out of his seat and started edging around the classroom, bag clutched to his chest. Erik was struggling for words over at the desk, and Chapin started to turn around when Erik grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. When she looked pissed, Erik bumbled out, "Wow, coach, your bicep is huge!" Chapin, who was built like a tank and had as much a sense of humour as one, narrowed her eyes and tried to turn again, but Erik just grabbed her other arm desperately. "Woah, the other one's even bigger! You don't take steroids, do you?"

Charles was getting closer to the window as Erik dropped his arms quickly at the suggestion of drugs. "Just because I've heard that steroids can severely disintegrate your...package. Not that that's your problem, of course..." he trailed off, and the class murmured amusement. Charles winced.

"But that's not the point," Erik tried.

"I hope not," Chapin said darkly.

Just then, Charles stepped on a creaky floorboard and Chapin heard. The whole class held their breath as she started to turn, but Erik dived in front to catch her attention.

"The point is, they kick our butts every year. I was thinking, and I devised a plan that will eventually enable us to defeat them."

"Which is?"

"That...thing you taught us," Erik said slowly.

"What thing?" Chapin frowned, and Erik cursed under his breath. Charles was almost at the window.

"Misdirection?" he attempted.

Chapin paused, confused. "I taught you that?"

"Yes! You...or Siegfried...or Roy...but that's not important. The-" Chapin seemed to hear something again, because she tried to move, but Erik grabbed her chin. "Think about it! They're looking left-" he dragged Chapin's face to the left- "and we're running right-" another pull- "bam! We score. We win." Erik dropped his hand quickly, letting out a nervous laugh.

Charles swung one foot up over the window ledge, but he was too damn short and started falling, clutching onto the frame to keep his balance. Erik sent angry thoughts in his direction as Chapin considered the idea and said, "But how do we get them to look left?"

Charles was about to fall, and Erik was completely lost, and then desperation took hold. "Like this," he said wildly, and pulled off his shirt.

The girls in the class started hollering as Erik's still wet midriff was revealed for the whole room to see. Chapin's eyes went very wide at the well-cut chest of a soccer player suddenly presented to her. No-one's eyes or grin were as big as Charles's though, and he bit his lip as he swung himself out of the window, and heard the class cheer at his escape. Or Erik's chest. Both deserved it.

Inside the room, Erik stood there for a few moments in complete shock at his own move. H epulled his T-shirt back on quickly as the noise died down. Chapin was still frozen. "Okay. Well, now that you've seen...the Plan, I'm gonna go and...show the Plan to someone else. Okay," he babbled, and escaped.

Outside the classroom, Charles grabbed his hand and they raced across the square to Erik's truck. They were laughing breathlessly as they bundled in and Erik drove off haphazardly. He didn't slow until they were well away from school and Erik had realised the shit he was going to get in for cutting class. Charles just rolled his eyes and said he did it all the time and if you were smart enough, they didn't care. He said this with his arm hanging over the back of Erik's seat and grinning wickedly, which was definitely not a deciding factor in Erik shutting up about it.

He eventually pulled up by the park near the upper class end of town, causing Charles to point out where his house was and Erik to be speechlessly impressed with its size. They left their bags in the car and took a random path lined with almost bare trees. There was a touch of frost in the air that made Erik shiver under his leather jacket, even with a scarf around his neck and his hands in his pockets.

"I can't thank you enough for helping me sneak out of detention," Charles confessed as they walked. "Very cool."

"No problem."

"I thought for sure I was caught when I was climbing out of that window, I tell you. So...how did you keep her distracted?" Charles was totally innocent.

"I dazzled her with my...wits," he stuttered. Charles grinned like he didn't believe him, but Erik clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead stubbornly. There was silence for a few moments, but a comfortable one.

"So what's your excuse?" Charles asked after a moment.

"For?"

"Acting the way we do."

Erik shrugged. "I don't like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

"So you disappoint them from the start and you're covered, right?" Charles replied, and when Erik looked over he was smiling sadly, like he knew. Of course he knew.

"Something like that," Erik nodded.

There was another pause, then Charles sighed. "But you screwed up."

"How?"

"You never disappointed me."

Erik stopped and stared at him, and Charles stopped too. Goddammit, if they weren't going to having another one of those long romantic pauses where he looked into Charles's eyes for a really long time. But you know what, he deserved it, because he hadn't spoken to him for nearly a month. Only now, talking to him again, could he truly admit to himself how much that had _hurt_. And by the smile that tugged on Charles's mouth, he'd definitely heard that thought, so Erik went all out and sent him another one too. _You're insufferably irresistible, do you know that?_

Charles grinned widely at that one, then his gaze slid past Erik and focused on something. "Are you up for it?"

"Up for what?" Erik blinked, still light-headed.

Charles nodded, and Erik looked back to see a sign for paint-balling. Well...he couldn't say no to that.

Even in a disgusting white bio-hazard suit, Charles managed to look good. Erik decided to punish him by pelting him as much as possible, which turned out to be a lot of fun. They were breathless and paint-splattered with minutes. The best part was when Charles realised, about ten minutes in, how incredibly useless telepathy was while paint-balling. Especially when you were playing in a dark barn full of obstacles that were mainly made of metal.

At least, Erik had thought that was the best part until Charles ambushed him from behind a corner. He got him right in the back with a ball, diving so hard that he fell over into a haystack and dragged Erik down with him. The two of them rolled over, laughing, and as Erik was lying on his back trying to catch his breath back, Charles leaned over and peeled a piece of blue-painted hair off his cheek. Then he leaned a bit further, and Erik's breathing wasn't so important anymore.

When Charles finally pulled away, Erik smiled slowly, one of his hands tangled in his hair. Then he brought the other one up swiftly to catch Charles full in the face with a green paintball. Charles was still spitting as Erik rolled up and away, laughing.

* * *

 An hour later, the truck pulled up outside the dorms and they two of them got out, paint still streaking their hair and lips still tingling. As they made their way to the garden behind the building, they were exchanging war stories.

"No, no. None of that stuff is true," Charles was saying, shaking his head.

"State trooper?" Erik asked.

"Fallacy. I happen to be a pacifist," he added. "Uh...dead guy in the parking lot?"

"Rumour. It was a trash bag. Prince of Denmark?"

"Hearsay. Bobby Ridgeway's balls?"

Erik sighed. "Fact. But he deserved it, he was being a loud misogynist in the lunch line."

"Fair enough."

"The accent?"

"It's real. I lived in England until I was seven."

"With the Queen?"

"Close. With my mum."

Erik grinned. "Where were you for a few months last year? I know the porn career's a lie."

Charles stopped, looking serious. "Do you?"

Erik stared, unnerved, then saw that wicked glint in Charles's eye again and they both laughed. He sat down on the bench, letting Charles slide up next to him so he could wrap his arm around his waist. There was quiet for a while.

"Tell me something true," Erik said suddenly.

"Something true?" Charles considered. "I hate peas."

"No," Erik rolled his eyes. "Something _true_. Something no-one else knows."

"Okay..." Then Charles leaned up to his ear. "You're sweet." He kissed his neck. "And sexy." He kissed his jaw, and Erik bit his lip. "And you're completely hot for me." Finally, he kissed his mouth, slowly and sweetly.

Erik narrowed his eyes, happily annoyed. "You're amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I tell myself that every day, actually." Erik was about to complain when he was kissed again, and the only natural form of protest was to kiss back.

When they eventually parted, Charles leaned his forehead against Erik's. "Go to the winter formal with me."

"Is that a request or a command?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Come on. Go with me."

"No."

Charles pulled away a little, so he could look at Erik properly. "No? Why not?"

He looked so hurt Erik could have reconsidered, but he didn't. "No, I won't go with you," he repeated.

"Why not?" Charles insisted.

"Because I don't want to," Erik said defensively, looking away into the garden. "It's a stupid tradition."

"Come on. People won't expect you to go."

Erik frowned, mouth open, and pulled his arm away so he could sit up and turn on him properly. "Why are you pushing this? What's in it for you?"

Charles paused, looking blank, and then, unimaginably, he looked annoyed too. "Oh, so I now I need a motive to be with you?"

"You tell me."

"You need therapy, do you know that? Has anyone ever told _you_ that?" Charles hunched over with his elbows on his knees. One hand was supporting his head to, coincidentally, block his face from Erik.

Something was wrong; Erik could feel it suddenly. It wasn't just Charles being mysterious, something was genuinely wrong. Quietly: "Answer the question, Charles."

"Nothing! There is nothing in it for me! Just the pleasure of your company, is that okay?" Charles spat out. There was silence as Erik watched him, but he didn't even look at Erik. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth with a huff.

Erik clenched his jaw, then yanked the cigarette out of Charles's mouth, threw it across the garden and walked away. He slammed the door around the front of the building loud enough that even Charles heard it from where he was.

* * *

 " _May I offer you a parsnip?_ " Hank asked in French.

" _No, you may not_ ," Raven replied.

" _Where is my uncle's pencil?_ "

" _I don't know. Maybe it's up your ass?_ "

"Wait..." Hank frowned, flicking through the book. "Wait. That's not on this page..."

" _Let me ask you a question, Hank. When are you going to ask me out?_ " Raven grabbed her bag and stormed off.

Hank, confused, kept searching through the pages until he found one on dating. " _Merde_." Then he jumped up and ran after her.


	6. The Social Event of the Year is the Best Place to Reveal All Your Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a cruel, cruel person. B)

On Friday lunchtime, Ororo opened her locker to find a beautiful black and gold velvet dress hanging inside. The note on it read, "Fair one, join me at the winter ball. I will be waiting. Love, William S." She made a squeaking noise.

* * *

The atmosphere in school was electric on the week of the formal. The faculty went all out in decorating, with snowflakes and piles of fluffy fake snow everywhere. There wasn't any _real_ snow, but it was so cold that the forecast was predicting it for the very next night. Naturally, everyone was hoping for a romantic fall just before the dance.

Everyone, including Raven, finally. She closed the letter that Hank had given her after reading it for the five hundredth time, and shivered from excitement as she walked home on Thursday. She was clever enough to order a dress anyway two weeks ago, and it has arrived at the weekend. The gorgeous silver mermaid gown hanging in her wardrobe made her feel like a princess, and complemented her skin tone too. All that was standing in her way was one thing. Or rather, one person.

She knocked on his door, nervous. The tension between her and Erik had decreased since the night of Scott's party. That probably said something about Erik's slightly racist treatment of humans and mutants, but at least there was no more arguing. On the other hand, Erik's relative quietness probably had something to do with Charles. Raven didn't doubt that her brother had succeeded in attracting Erik - but whether he'd finally stopped being 70% douchebag was another question. Ironically, she'd finally reached a point where she could talk to Charles again. It was perfect timing that he had to mess her roommate around.

Their twisted love life aside, Raven knocked on the door. Erik grunted something from inside, and she entered. "Erik?"

"Hey," Erik said distractedly, sitting at his computer and tapping away.

"Um. I wanted to discuss tomorrow night. As you know, it's the formal-" Erik stopped tapping.

"Do you have a date?"

"Well, yes."

"Raven, you know how it is. I'm not going - you're not going."

"Erik, you're not my dad-"

"I know who want to bend the rules for. It's John, isn't it?" Erik swung round in his chair and eyed her.

Raven grimaced. "Let's review, okay? You: not interested. Me: dying to go. So can we for two seconds ignore the fact that you're severely unhinged and discuss my need for a night of teenage normalcy?"

Erik stood up. "Look, I know you hate having to stay at home because I'm not Susie High School."

"Like you care." Raven crossed her arms.

"I do care," Erik shot back. "But I'm a firm believer in doing something for your own reasons, and not someone else's."

"Well, I wish I had that luxury," Raven said sarcastically. "You know I'm the only sophomore that got invited to go to the formal? And I can't go, because _you_ don't feel like it."

Erik took a deep breath and walked over to his window, obviously ignoring her. Raven resisted the urge to kick a pile of his clothes off the floor and turned to walk out.

"John never told you that we went out, did he?"

Raven stopped, face disbelieving. "Yeah, okay."

"In ninth. For a month."

There was something in Erik's voice that didn't sound like a joke. She turned back around to see him leaning against the desk, watching her. "But he's not...like..."

"Gay?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I didn't care at the time."

"...why?" Raven asked after a moment. "Why did you go out with him?"

"Because he was, like, such a babe," Erik said, self-mocking.

"But you hate John."

"Now I do."

"What happened?" Erik gave her a meaningful look. "Oh! Oh my _God_. Please tell me you're joking."

"It was just once," he said quickly. "Right after a dumb New Years party. Everyone was doing it, so...I did it. Afterwards, I told him I didn't want to anymore because I wasn't ready. And he got pissed and dumped me."

Raven stared at him as Erik looked down, awkward. "But after that I swore I'd never do anything just because 'everyone else' did it. And I haven't since. With the exception of Scott's party and my stunning digestive pyrotechnics."

She was stunned. "How is it possible I didn't know about this?"

"Well, first," Erik considered, "we were fifteen and the whole gay thing was /so/ daring that barely anybody knew. He could've been bicurious... But I'm pretty sure no-one sleeps with as many girls as he has because they're /not/ trying to hide something. And secondly... I warned him that if he told anyone, the cheerleading squad would find out how tiny his dick is," he finished, grinning.

"Okay..." Raven nodded. "So why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to let you make up your own mind about him."

Erik sounded so sincere when he said it, but Raven paused, frowning. Then, annoyed, she said: "Then why did you insist in this dumb bet?" Erik opened his mouth to interrupt, but Raven continued louder, "It's not like I'm stupid enough to repeat _your_ mistakes."

"You're a sixteen-year-old trying to live independently, I needed to protect you," Erik said, offended.

"By not letting me experience anything for myself?" Raven spat.

"Not all experiences are good, Raven. You can't always trust the people you want to."

"You mean how you trusted Charles?" Raven shouted, and by the look on Erik's face she'd hit it right on the nail. "I have no idea what's going on with you two, but you sure make a good match with your obsession with protecting people by hiding things from them! I've done it too, and I've changed myself because of it, and yet I'm the immature one who can't trust anyone? I guess now I'll never know, will I?" With that, she stalked out, kicking Erik's desk on the way out.

Erik stood still in his room for a long while, listening to Raven throw herself on her bed and cry loudly. He suddenly had a lot to think about.

All through school the next day, Raven was miserable. Even Hank's attempt to cheer her up with a surprise of her favourite candy didn't work. It didn't help that Ororo revealed she had a date too, which meant _she_ was going to be the only sophomore at the formal. Not that Raven wasn't happy for her, but, you know, it was supposed to be her special night. And it was ruined by a couple of gay assholes too blind to admit how stupid they were.

She got back to the dorm at four, looking forward to an evening full of sickening amounts of reality TV and popcorn. She was lying upside down on the sofa, weighing up the idea of going to the prom as Erik and getting smashed in his place when the man himself walked in. He stood over her, the wrong way around.

"Shouldn't you be starting your three-hour preparation routine that I heard you talk about at least six times?"

"Don't fucking do that to me," Raven groaned.

"Fine. You won't mind if I have the shower then? Because I need to get ready to go to the formal."

"Yeah..." she muttered. There was a pause as he left, then her eyes widened and she rolled right off the sofa. "Wait, what?"

Three hours later, Raven was adding her fiftieth layer of hairspray to the curls she'd painstakingly put in her red hair when Erik walked in. He held up two ties. "Black or silver?"

Somewhere he'd found a gorgeous fitted vest, with silver embroidery that twisted and curled like some intricate frosted glass. Raven was impressed by his taste. "Black. Otherwise it detracts from the vest."

"My thoughts exactly," Erik nodded, and tied it round his neck as Raven checked her makeup. "Are you ready?"

"Nearly." She picked up the final addition, a silver necklace, and he moved forward.

"Let me." He did the clasp, then turned her around. "You look beautiful."

"So do you," she grinned.

Erik smiled then checked his watch. "I've got to go."

"Don't worry, Charles is awful at time-keeping."

"I know. I'm going to make him feel bad for it."

Raven laughed. Just before Erik walked out of the door, she called after him, and when he turned she rushed to give him a hug. He squirmed for a moment, but when she whispered, "Thank you," he sighed and hugged her back.

After Erik left, Raven paced up and down the living room; five minutes, then ten, then fifteen, and Hank was still a no show. She'd called him late, she knew, but he did live in town and he was usually great at being on time. When the buzzer sounded that said someone wanted to be let in to the building, she breathed a sigh of relief, and picked up the receiver. "Hank?"

"Yeah, it's me." It was probably just the awful line, but he sounded a lot...growlier than usual.

"I'll let you up." She pressed the button, and pulled on her heels, feeling nervous and excited.

There was a knock on her door, and as she opened it she said, "I'm sorry it's such short notice, but Erik's so temperamental, and I'm just happy-"

Then she stopped. "Hank?"

"It's me," he said quietly, or a quiet as he could be with a voice as deep as his had suddenly become. And it wasn't just that either; his face was larger, and...bluer. And hairer. Raven froze.

"Look, I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier. But you did your whole mutation-revealing thing and it didn't seem fair for me to steal that from you. Then I realised how brave you were to do it, and it made me want to too, but everyone knew and loved you and they barely knew me, so how was I supposed to know how they'd react? I mean, after what happened at my old school... But you were telling me today about Charles and Erik and all that, and it got me thinking. And now I don't care if they hate me. I only care if you hate me."

Raven stared at him all through the speech. Part of her wanted to be angry, to rage at him like she had with Charles and Erik and everyone who turned on her like this. But the other part, the bigger part, knew that Hank wasn't manipulative like they were. He was just afraid, like she'd been one time.

She leaned and forward and kissed him on the cheek. "You're beautiful, Hank."

Hank stared at her. "Really?"

"Really. Now take me to the damn formal."

* * *

The school hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Large, plastic white trees were twisting around the entrance and the edges of the room to make it appear a forest. Blue and silver streamers hung from the ceiling. There as blue punch on the frosted tables, and even a silver dance floor filling the centre of the room. A band that, by definition, did not exactly suck playing on a stage covered in glitter. The place was full of people, most in toned down colours to suit the mood but a few peach puff nightmares milling around too.

Erik stood at the top of the short stairs, just a breath away from the door, admittedly a little shy. Dances weren't really his thing.

"I can tell, considering how impractically you dress for them," a voice said behind him. Erik smiled, biting his lip as the only person who could reply to his thoughts came round to face him. "Or is the combination of your breathtaking appearance and lack of jacket supposed to make me pity you?"

"Niether," Erik replied. "You're supposed to be stunned to silence."

"I was," Charles admitted. "I stood there for a few minutes before I even spoke. You look...wow."

"You too." Charles was wearing a black tux and tie with pale blue shirt, because obviously he couldn't do things by halves. He held out a light blue rose, and Erik tucked it into his buttonhole.

"Where'd you get a tux at the last minute?"

"Oh, just something I had...you know, lying around," Charles shrugged. "Where'd you get the vest?"

"Just something I had. You know, lying around," he replied, and Charles grinned. There was an awkward pause.

"I'm...sorry that I questioned your motives," Erik said quietly. "I was wrong."

Charles took a deep breath, expression guarded, then let it out and smiled. "You're forgiven."

"Okay. Ready for the dance?" Erik set his shoulders back proudly, and held out a hand.

"Yes, sir," Charles nodded seriously, then twined their fingers together and pulled him through the entrance, smirking.

* * *

John stood outside the double doors to Raven's dorm building, checking his reflection in the dark glass as he waited for her to let him in. After a couple of minutes, he tried the button again. And again. Then he started pressing the buttons to other dorms. Eventually a tiny brunette girl in pyjamas stuck her upper body _through_ the door. "Yes?"

"Hey, kid. I'm John? Here to pick up Raven Darkhölme?"

The girl stared at him, then pulled back into the door, annoyed.

* * *

Charles and Erik were dancing at the edge of the crowd when Raven and Hank entered. The talking quietened a little as the two of them stood there in all their awkward blue and silver glory. Erik stared, then looked over at Charles.

"He had a fear complex about it," Charles shrugged. "I decided to give him some wise counselling at school today."

"Why?" Erik asked, moving closer to keep the conversation private.

"Well, I just thought, what would Erik do? Then I realised being heavily sarcastic wasn't going to help, so I just talked to him instead." Erik had been smiling at that, but then he rolled his eyes and shoved a laughing Charles away.

Hank and Raven walked down onto the floor, Raven with her arms wrapped around Hank's bicep and in awe at the decor which to her, truly looked magical. They moved to the middle of the crowd and starting slow dancing, totally obvious to the stares and whispers of the people around them. Right then, they only had eyes for each other.

And most people left them be, until Ororo hurried in. She was wearing her gift dress and her white hair piled on top of her head in an intricate bun thing. She rushed over to them, worried.

"Have you seen him?"

"Who?" Raven frowned.

"William!" Ororo cried. "He asked me to meet him here."

"Oh, Ororo," Raven sighed, "tell me you haven't progressed to full-on hallucinations."

Then Hank tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to the stage, and Ororo looked over and saw Kurt standing by the band. He too, was wearing a Shakespearian-style jacket and ruff and grinning shyly. Ororo beamed, and they made their way to each other through the crowd.

"Milady," Kurt bowed.

"Good sir," Ororo held out her hand for him to kiss, and giggled when he did it. They danced off together happily.

Some time later, Erik was taking a break at the bar with Emma, looking intimidatingly attractive as always in a snow white dress. The song finished and Charles appeared, grabbing his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. "Charles, what-"

Then the song started playing, a familiar riff that he could recognise anywhere. Erik's eyes widened. He looked over at the stage to see Rage & Serenity, his _favourite_ band, the one he'd been seeing the night Charles had asked him out. They were playing enthusiastically to the crowd of confused but happy formal goers.

"Oh my god! It's-"

"I called in a few favours," Charles admitted. Erik felt light-headed with happiness as the lead singer jumped down from the stage and walked through the crowd to Erik, singing all the while. As he walked off and the crowd closed around the again, Erik pulled Charles close to kiss him long and deep, not caring who saw. He was just too happy to care.

And for that moment, everything was perfect.

* * *

Raven was in the bathroom reapplying her lip gloss later when Emma walked in and leaned against the counter, watching her. There was a pause.

"What are you doing here?" Raven asked politely. She may have made peace with Erik, but the whole bet thing has still been Emma's idea.

"John's just arrived," Emma commented casually. "He's pretty pissed. Storming around the dance floor yelling about you. I think he's annoyed that you ditched him."

"Well, good," Raven shrugged. "I don't want him."

"That's the best thing you've said all year so far," she replied. "And just so you know, I did a little mental scoop, and it seems like John only liked you for one reason. He even had a bet going with _his_ friends - kind of ironic, don't you think? Anyway, he was going to nail you tonight."

Emma sat back and watched as Raven froze, disturbed, and then ran out of the bathroom quickly.

In the hall, Erik and Charles were still dancing in good spirits.

"Oxfordshire," Charles said suddenly, trying to be heard over the noise.

"What?"

"That's where I was last year. I wasn't in jail, I don't know Britney Spears and I didn't sleep with Marilyn Manson - I don't think. You see, my grandpa, he was ill. So I spent most of those four months sitting on his sofa watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire and making tomato soup. End of story."

"No way," Erik blinked at him, and when Charles just shrugged he had to laugh. It suddenly occurred to him that the most dangerous thing about Charles Xavier was the excessive amount of tea he could handle.

Erik was about to say this when John stormed up to the two of them, and he tensed up. But it was Charles that John was glaring at, Charles who he grabbed by the front of his jacket and dragged away, Charles who John wasn't even supposed to /know/. Erik stopped, suddenly unsure of the situation, and then John started yelling.

"What's she doing here with that Furby? I didn't _pay_ you to take out Erik so some punk could snake me with Raven!"

Erik's world shattered.


	7. Ignorance is Truly Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. Thanks to everyone that's been reading and kudosing and bookmarking long the way, you guys are so inspiring. I hope you enjoyed it as much as me :)

Erik could hear a faint ringing in his ears, instead of the sounds of the formal. There was vomit in the back of his throat, and he was suddenly very aware of both how cold his skin was and how hot it was on the hall. Everything seemed to slow down for a second, and he watched Charles's eyes widen and his face turn to Erik, something in his expression both guilty and pleading. For some reason all Erik could think about was how Charles's eyes were really blue, the same blue as his shirt and the rose and his car. Before, he'd thought how perfect that made him - now all he could see was how _planned out_ it was.

"Nothing in it for you, huh?" he spat, surprised it wasn't a squeak, then turned on his heel and got the hell out of there.

Charles had been about to say something. He didn't know what, but _something_ to convince Erik that it wasn't just about money, it was Raven too and some stupid selfish reason about a challenge that he couldn't even remember. But now he just pulled himself away from John fiercely and threatened, " _Stay away from my sister._ " Then he chased through the crowd after Erik.

Kurt had been across the room dancing with Ororo when it all went down, and they made worried eye contact before dancing over to Raven and Hank. "The shit hath hiteth the fan...eth," Kurt muttered.

Hank looked over, saw Erik and Charles storming out the room, and let go of Raven. "Stay here."

The two of them edged over to where John was still standing in a circle of people.

"John, _freund_ , pal..." Kurt tried, but John just rounded on him and shoved him to the ground. Hank immediately ran to help him up, but John cut him off and towered over him, seething.

"You messed with the wrong guy, and now you're gonna pay. You and that little bitch."

Hank growled. "That's enough, okay? You've crossed a line."

John punched him, and when Hank staggered back he kicked him too. The crowd started panicking. "Get up and fight, you little punk!"

Two perfectly manicured fingers tapped John on shoulder. When he turned around something really, _really_ hard hit him square on the nose. He shrieked girlishly in pain, and tasted blood on lips as the girl in the silver dress fumed at him.

"Shit, Raven! I'm shooting a nose spray ad tomorrow!"

Raven took him with a right hook, and the crowd oohed. " _That's_ for making my date bleed..." She punched again. " _That's_ for Erik..." Finally, she kicked him square in the groin with her new custom Louboutins. "And _that's_ for me." John slumped to the ground, whimpering.

Raven inspected one her broken nails unhappily, then rushed over to Hank on the floor as the crowd started cheering. Ororo was helping Kurt up too. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better," Hank said with a huge smile.

The four of them stood there, suddenly aware of the mass of people around them and feeling very uncomfortable. "This is awkward," Hank muttered.

"We need a distraction," Ororo said quietly, then looked at the windows with white eyes.

"SNOW!" someone yelled from the back of the crowd. Suddenly everyone was rushing to the walls to look out at the white flurry that had started up on the other side. Ororo, Kurt, Raven and Hank were left in a practically empty space, and made for the exit gratefully.

* * *

 Outside, the snow was sticking to Erik's face and hair as he ran down the stairs, trying to locate his truck through the thick fall. Charles was just a few metres behind.

"Would you give me a chance-"

" _You were paid to take me out!_ " Erik shouted, disbelieving. It was only when his voice cracked that he even realised he was crying. He stopped, shivering with cold or anger, he didn't know. "By the one person I truly hate! I _knew_ this was a set up!" The manhole covers on the pavement started rattling violently.

"Erik, it wasn't like that, okay?" Charles begged, and he was covered in snow too, his "coincidental" tux being ruined by the wet flakes.

"Really? Then what was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?" A car siren went off.

"No!" Charles moved closer, brushing snow out of his eyes. "I didn't care about the money, okay? I cared...I cared about you."

Erik clenched his jaw, setting off another car alarm. Of course the first time Charles would even say something like that had to be right _now_ , didn't it, when he was just trying to twist more stories to keep Erik around. He should have trusted Raven when she told him how Charles lied. He should have trusted himself. Quietly, fiercely, he said, "You are so not the person I thought you were."

The stung, more than Charles had expected it too, which said more about how much he really cared about Erik than his words ever could. He moved forward again and pulled Erik's face down, kissing him with a desperation that scared him. For a moment, he thought Erik was going to reciprocate. Then he pushed him away angrily and walked off into the night, vanishing in a few seconds with only the sound of creaking metal tracking him.

Charles could've followed him, because Erik's thoughts were louder than the snowfall. But the pain in those thoughts, and the _anger_ \- Erik was capable of more emotion than he let people realise. Now it was all spilling out right where Charles could hear it and it was raw and hot and raging, and he couldn't move from the force of it. Part of him didn't want to move, because then he'd have to face the source of those thoughts, and face the fact that he'd been the one to cause them. All because he'd been so self-centred he thought playing with someone's emotions like that would be fun.

There was a scuffling sound behind, and Charles looked back to see Raven standing at the top of the steps, the hem of her gorgeous dress trailing in the snow. He didn't know how much she'd seen but it would have been enough. "What did you do?" she asked. His expression was all the response she needed.

Raven sighed and made her way down the stairs towards him. "Charles, honey, I didn't-"

"Go to him," Charles interrupted, running a hand through his hair worriedly. "We can talk about us later. Just...go to him." Raven look conflicted, but nodded and followed Erik.

And then Charles was truly alone.

* * *

 The ceiling above Erik's bed was painted a dull yellow, with small patches of white where flakes of the wallpaper had started falling down. Right above his pillow, there were four blue spots forming a perfect rectangle where before had been a poster of Rage & Serenity, but he'd ripped it down after the formal. There was one lone glow-in-the-dark planet near the wall, left by the last person to stay here, and a blurred Magic Marker message next to the light fixture. Erik had stood on his bed to read it once, and it had said, " _Stacey was here._ " He wondered where Stacey was now.

After a few hours lying awake in his bed on Friday night, he could have drawn the ceiling there by heart, and after a night of restless panic, he had. On Saturday morning he switched on his computer and watched back episodes of That 70s Show, eating the Fruit Loops that Raven had put on his floor before he'd woken up. She came to visit a few hours later, when Donna and Eric were arguing about her job at the radio station, and asked if he needed anything. He said coffee, and she brought it. After that, she brought him a new one every few hours.

On Saturday afternoon, he sat at his desk for half an hour staring at his unopened textbooks. Then he went back to bed and did nothing for a few more hours, which was more relaxing than he realised. Raven brought him a plate of scrambled eggs, and sat at the edge of his bed as he started eating.

"You know, when I broke up with Finn-"

Erik picked up the headphones from his floor and put them on, turning up the volume until Raven realised it was pointless and left him alone. He stayed like that, doing Sudoku until eleven at night, and then took the headphones off and collapsed into sleep.

On Sunday morning, Emma came in, and at least _she_ didn't try to stage an intervention. Instead, she got annoyed at him for how chaotic his room was and asked if he'd done his English assignment.

Erik confessed he hadn't, and she'd thrown his notebook at him. "Do it now. God knows something worthwhile has to come out of this mess."

He thought about what she'd said long after. _Something good to come out of this mess._ That sounded like an inspiration for writing. The only problem was, he hated poetry. And he hated rhyming. Right now, he hated everything. On the page, he wrote "I hate..." and then started listing. It wasn't until he'd got to the final couplet he realised it was all about the same thing. He threw the book across the room angrily, and curled up under his blanket.

After lunch on Sunday, Raven insisted he had to come into the living room to have something to eat. He had a feeling she'd been on the phone to _him_ , which was good for her that they were talking again, but it made him feel like another social project. Regardless, she and Hank were going out that afternoon, which was fair enough considering all the attention she'd given Erik. Raven said she didn't want him holed up in his room while someone broke in. Erik tried to argue what was there of value to steal from a student dorm, _really_ , but Raven was adamant. So he found himself sitting on the couch wrapped in his blanket and sketching by the time three o'clock rolled around.

Raven came in. "You want?" She was holding a mug of tea this time, and Erik took it gratefully.

"Thanks."

"So, you sure you don't want to come sailing with us? It'll be fun."

"I'll be fine."

Raven nodded, and there was an awkward pause. "Look, I don't think I ever thanked you for going on Friday. But it really meant a lot to me."

"I'm glad."

Just then, the buzzer went, and Raven rushed to let Hank up. A few minutes later, he came through the door, looking comical in a large scarf and hat. The snow outside hadn't lessened all weekend, and Raven was pulling on a coat too.

"Hey," Hank said quietly, noticing the seriousness of the situation.

"Hey," she replied.

"You ready?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Hank looked past Raven and waved to Erik. "See you later."

Erik didn't look up from his sketchbook. "Bye."

Raven hustled Hank out of the door and shut it. "Is he going to be okay?" Hank worried.

"I hope so," Raven muttered, and linked an arm through his to hurry him down the stairs.

The dorm was quiet for a while, and Erik liked it that way. Then the shrill ringing of the phone punctuated the silence, and he sighed and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Monthly checkup," his social worker sighed.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I'm doing cocaine right now, and I've got an orgy after. Call later."

"Very funny. Is it just you?"

"Yeah, Raven's out."

"Where?"

"Gone to meet some bikers. Big, hairy ones."

She ignored him. "How was the formal the other night? Most of my clients say it was interesting."

"Parts of it."

"Which parts?"

"The part where Raven beat the hell out of some guy."

"Raven did _what_?"

"What's the matter? Upset I rubbed off on her?" Erik grinned.

"No. Impressed."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Raven had to tell me why she wanted to move into the dorms, you know. It took a while, but I got the truth out of her, and I realised she needed someone to convince her not to be so afraid of herself. She's young, she still lets me play a few innings in her life, but you've had everyone in this agency on the bench for years. You were the perfect choice of roommate."

"You put her in here on _purpose_?"

"Well, it's all turned out right, hasn't it? It's good you got to her quickly, because when you go to Massachusetts-"

" _When_ I go?" Erik sat up, sketchbook sliding onto the floor.

"Oh, God. Don't tell me you've changed your mind now. I've already written them a check."

Erik was in shock, then a slow grin spread over his face. "Thank you. Seriously, thank you."

"Alright, don't push it. Now stop moping around in bed and go have a shower. You're not going to get into MIT if you don't do your work."

"How did you know-"

"Some of my clients are very talkative." There was a smirk in her voice as she said it, and then the receiver clicked off.

Erik sat there for a while, looking down at his sketchbook where it lay on the floor. He'd been doodling absentmindedly, but now he looked properly he saw the page covered in things: a snowflake, the cover of Rage & Serenity's EP, a black king chess piece, and a pair of eyes, sparkling and mischievous. Even without colour, he knew they were blue.

Erik stood up and went back to his room, located the notebook and wrote the final couplet. It was done.

* * *

 English class on Monday was louder than usual, with the whole class chattering about what had gone down at the formal. Logan banged his hand on the desk several times before they finally shut up.

"Alright. I know it's the last week, and y'all went to the prom on Friday so all your hormones are blazing. But I assume you all found time to finish your poems. Except Mr Allerdyce, of course..." Logan broke off to chuckle, pleased, as John glared darkly at him from behind a pair of huge sunglasses. "...who has an excuse. Lose the glasses, bub."

John sighed before removing the sunglasses to reveal several butterfly bandages taped over the bridge of his nose, bruised from Raven's attack on Friday. The class snickered.

"Okay, anyone brave enough to read their sonnet aloud?"

The class was quiet, having suddenly realised how golden silence was. Logan looked around, unimpressed. "Anyone?"

Eventually, Erik raised a hand, rolling his eyes. "I will."

"Oh Lord, here we go," Logan muttered as Erik picked up his notebook and walked to the front of the class. He turned around, ready to begin, and then the class door creaked open and Charles stuck his head through.

"Uh, I got hung up-"

"Alright, just sit down," Logan interrupted, waving at Charles's seat in the back row, and he slunk into it, looking at the ground.

Erik's throat closed up for a moment. He was about to ask Logan to let someone else go first when he saw how Charles was looking away, glancing over at Erik quickly as if it would hide his miserable expression. Something in that forlornness made Erik even more determined, and he pulled himself up and faced the class.

"I hate the way you talk to me  
And the way you cut your hair  
I hate the way you drive my car  
I hate it when you stare  
I hate your big dumb sweater vests  
And the way you read my mind  
I hate you so much it makes me sick  
It even makes me rhyme."

The class was listening closely and so was Charles, staring at Erik openly now, and Erik licked his lips before continuing.

"I hate the way you're always right  
I hate it when you lie  
I hate it when you make me laugh  
Even worse when you make me cry-"

Erik's voice hiccuped on the last word, and he felt an embarrassing burning behind his eyes that signalled tears. Fiercely:

"I hate it when you're not around  
And the fact that you didn't call  
But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you  
Not even close - not even a little bit - not even - at _all_."

He couldn't stop himself from looking at Charles on the last line, but he was looking away, his arms crossed protectively across his chest, despondent. Erik couldn't stop the hot tears from coming then, so he marched out of the classroom and slammed the door behind.

He didn't see Charles again for the rest of the school day, which in some ways was good because he didn't have to talk to him. But in other ways it was bad because, well, he didn't have to _talk_ to him. It made the day pass a little easier, but then he started to think about what he would do for the rest of the school year. He couldn't avoid Charles forever, but seeing him would just hurt more. The only other option was to, uh, make peace with him - but it wasn't Erik's place to do that. Charles had fucked up, Charles had to beg forgiveness. That was how it worked, and he was wholly convinced Charles would never do it.

_Anyway, it has to be something really good to convince me._

At the end of the day, Emma had to rush off to a ballet exam so Erik was left to go home on his own. He made his way to his truck, tucked on the opposite side of the parking lot. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn't notice what was lying on the seat until he had his hand on the door.

Awed, Erik ducked his head through the open window to look closer at the bass guitar lying across his front seats, black and sleek and beautiful. Charles, who had been lurking nervously around the back of the car next door, moved up behind him, leaning on the side of the truck. "Nice, isn't it?"

Erik pulled out of the window and frowned, disbelieving. "An Encore E4? Is this for me?"

"Yeah. I thought you could use it. You know, when you start your band." Charles shrugged like it was nothing, hands shoved in his pockets and looking repentant. "Besides, I did have some spare cash lying around. This arsehole paid me to take out this really great guy."

"Is that right?" He narrowed his eyes, only a small smile giving away his pleasure.

"Yeah. But I messed it up. I...uh, kind of fell for him." Charles looked at his feet.

The frown melted away and he bit his lip. "Really?"

"Well, it's not every day you find a guy who'll flash someone to get you out of detention," Charles said slyly. Erik's eyes went wide and he pressed a hand to his mouth.

" _Fuck._ "

Charles started grinning, and after a few moments of embarrassment, Erik had to laugh too. Charles had just played him good all over again and he couldn't be mad, not when he'd done something as ridiculous as that. Charles just brought out the ridiculous in him.

Erik was still smiling at the ground when Charles sidled up closer and pulled him down for a kiss. Erik's resistance was fractional before he kissed him back, happy and relieved and completely indifferent to the packed parking lot around them.

Then he pulled away quickly. "Wait. You can't just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Charles sighed. "But then again, there's always drums and acoustic and maybe even, one day, a tambourine."

Erik smiled, and Charles took the opportunity to kiss him again. After a moment Erik pushed him away _again_.

"And don't just think you can-"

This time, Charles pulled him down the lapels of his coat and kissed him right in the middle of his sentence. That was frankly very rude in a lot of ways that Erik couldn't be bothered to think about right now. Instead, it was necessary to concentrate on pushing Charles up against the truck, hands on his waist and laughing into his mouth because he was so damn _short_. Charles was laughing too, because someone in the background was wolf-whistling but frankly, neither of them cared. They were still kissing and they didn't have to stop for a long time. Which they didn't.


End file.
